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CONTAINING 



MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS, 



aafccutli? JBntast'a* 



EDITED BY RUFUS W. GRISWOLD. 



yhl A^-r ■ 







J J.8iiTLER Sc. 



lu crowds the good and mighty go, 

Aud to those vast dim chambers hie ; 
Where, mingled- with the high and low, 

Dead Caesars and dead Shakspeares lie. — R. C. Sands. 



N E W - Y O R K : '^ 

LINE?s AND FENNELL, -229 BROADWAY. 
1841. 



Cr C 







[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840, by RufusW .Griswold, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Soulheri, 

District of New-York.] 



TO THE READER. 



The plan of the Biographical Annual was not 
conceived until all the other English and Ameri- 
can gift-books for 1841 were already in the 
market ; its contents, therefore, have of necessity- 
been very hastily, and in many cases quite im- 
perfectly, prepared. While it was passing through 
the press, however, the Editor was unexpectedly 
compelled to be absent from the city ; and this 
circumstance has added greatly to the difficulties 
of its publication. 

To the many gentlemen, who, at so short a 
summons, have given him the benefit of their aid 
— which has secured to the volume all the value 
it possesses, — he tenders the expression of his 
most grateful acknowledgments. To others, 
who would gladly have contributed to the work, 
if the period of its publication could have been 
delayed, he offers his thanks for their good will, 



X PREFACE. 

and for furnishing such assistance as they could 
conveniently command. 

It is the present intention of the Editor to con- 
tinue the Biographical Annual from year to year, 
to make it intrinsically the most valuable of all 
the illustrated annuaries, and to make it rival in 
the splendor of its embellishments, and the beauty 
of its typography, the best works of its class 
issued in this country. It was of course impos- 
sible to present this volume, planned, written, and 
printed in six weeks, in a becoming garb. In its 
present form, it is presented to the public as emi- 
nently valuable for its contents, and as containing 
contributions from authors of the first character 
and celebrity, to whose co-operation the Editor 
refers with the highest personal gratification. 

New-York, Dec. 24, 1840. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 



■o* 



Theodore Sedgwick. By William C. Bryant. . 13 

William Dunlap. By John Inman. ... 25 

Benjamin B. Thacher. ..... 35 

Jesse Buel. By Prof. Amos Dean. ... 37 

Judge White. By Horace Greeley. ... 46 

John Bleecker Van Schaick. By S. Dewitt Bloodgood. 55 

Jarvis, the Painter. By William L. Stone. . . 66 

Charles Hammond. By Alexander Mann. . . 73 
Rev. Charles Follen, J. U. D. By Henry J. Raymond. 80 

Governor Benjamin Pierce. Bj'^ Jacob B. Moore. . 90 

General Absalom Peters. By Absalom Peters, D. D. 100 

Robert Y. Hayne. By Alexander Mann. . . 112 

Richard Bacon. Jr. By C. W. Everest. . . 121 

The Chevalier de Gerstner. By W. M. Gillespie. 136 
Rev. Demetrius A. Gallitzin, "the Pastor of the Al- 

leghanies." By Charles Constantine Pise, D. D. 142 

William Leggett. By Theodore Sedgwick. . . 150 

Solomon Southwick. By S. S. Randall. . . 156 

Henry J. Finn. By Epes Sargent. . . » 171 

Rev. Elihu W. Baldwin. By Joseph H. Myers. . 181 

Nicholas Cusick 191 

Rev. John Thornton Kirkland, D. D., LL. D- . 193 

William Maclure. ...... 197 

Rev. William Stone. ..»».« 20G 



xu 



CONTENTS. 



y 
/ 

v/ 

/ 



* Governor "Wolf. 

5^ Captain James Riley. 

Stephen Burroughs. 

John Helm. . 

General Adair. 

John Lowell, LL. D. 

Gilbert Stuart Newton. By J. Kenrick Fisher 

Samuel Ward. By Charles King. 

Stephen Van Rensselaer. 

Dr. Henry Perrine. By W. M. Gillespie 

Timothy Flint 

Matthew Carey 



Page 

211 

216 

219 

247 

252 

255 j 

257 

266 I 

283 

287 

293 

300 



THE BIOGRAPHICAL ANNUAL. 



THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

BT WILLIAM C. BRYANT. 

The subject of this memoir is one whose charac- 
ter deserves to be held up to the imitation of all 
men engaged in political life, or in public contro- 
versies of any kind. He was a man of many vir- 
tues, but he enjoyed one distinction of difficult at- 
tainment — that of being a politician without party 
vices. In the questions respecting the powers of 
government and the proper objects and limits of 
human laws, he took part with great zeal, deem- 
ing them highly important to the welfare of man- 
kind, yet he bore himself in these disputes with 
such manifest sincerity, disinterestedness, and phi- 
lanthropy, and with such generosity towards his 
adversaries as to make them regret that he was 
not of their side. Nothing could exceed his dis- 
like of the ignoble ferocity into which party men 
so often allow themselves to fall, save his abhor- 
rence of the unmanly practices to which they 

2 



14 THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

sometimes resort. It is with a feeling of deep 
reverence that I essay to speak of such a man. 

Theodore Sedgwick, the eldest son of Theodore 
and Pamela Sedgwick, was born on the 31st of 
December, 1781, in Sheffield, one of those beauti- 
ful villages on the Housatonic, in the State of 
Massachusetts. His fathci', who for several years 
filled a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court 
of that State, was a man of extraordinary ability 
and worth, distinguished for his legal learning, his 
courtesy of manners, his kindness of heart, and 
his sternness towards fraud and injustice. The 
intellectual character of the parent, with the no- 
bleness and benevolence of his disposition, were 
the inheritance of a numerous family of children, 
among whom were the subject of this memoir and 
the Miss Sedgwick whose writings make so de- 
lightful and useful a part of our literature. It is 
related of him that he was in the habit of constant, 
intimate, and unreserved conversation with liis 
children ; and to the communication of his man- 
ners and virtues by this means, much of the men- 
tal and moral resemblance they bore him may 
doubtless be ascribed. 

When Mr. Sedgwick was but seven years of 
age his father removed to Stockbridge. Here he 
passed the years of his early youth, and having 
finished his preparatory studies, was sent to Yale 
College, where he was graduated in 1799. He 
soon afterwards entered upon the study of the law 



THEODORE SEDGWICK. 15 

with Peter Van Schaack, an eminent barrister of 
Kinderhook, in the State of New York, and began 
the practice in Albany in the year 1803, in part- 
nership with Harmanus Bleecker, a gentleman 
most respectable for intelligence and integrity, 
who now represents the United States in a diplo- 
matic capacity at the Hague. This partnership 
subsisted until Mr. Sedgwick left the bar. He 
was equally fortunate in his domestic associations. 
In 1808 he married Miss Susan Ridley, daughter 
of Matthew Ridley, of Baltimore, and grand- 
daughter of Governor Livingston, of New Jersey. 
A great man* has said of the profession of the 
law, that while it sharpens and invigorates the 
faculties more than any other, it is by no means 
apt to open and liberalize them in the same pro- 
portion. Upon the mind of Mr. Sedgwick, how- 
ever, prepared as it was by a fortunate education, 
and singularly noble in its native impulses and 
sympathies, it was very far from having any nar- 
rowing effect. Perhaps its peculiar discipline 
even heightened and strengthened his virtues. It 
is true that in some cases the profession has much 
to answer for. When it finds a man inclined to 
knavery or to pragmatical dealing, it makes him 
the more knavish and the more contentious ; but 
the truly conscientious and humane man is the 
better for wrestling successfully with its tempta- 

* Edmund Burke. 



16 THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

tions, and the man of large and masculine under- 
standing finds his moral judgment ripened by the 
study of its higher principles. Mr. Sedgwick ap- 
plied himself with great industry and exactness 
to his professional duties, and although no lover 
of forms, he was yet an expert solicitor as well as 
an able advocate. As a speaker he was impres- 
sive, endowed with a natural fluency, and with a 
mind exceedingly active, and capable of instantly 
commanding its resources. When convinced of 
the justice of the cause in which he was engaged, 
he could press his argument, it is said, with ex- 
ceeding force and power ; but he was not a man 
to play a part in the tribunals any more than in 
private life, and he sought not to suppress or to 
disguise his convictions. For the tricks of the 
profession, fur the cunning and artifice which 
give some men a reputation, he had an utter 
contempt. 

In 1822, finding his health somewhat impaired, 
he took the resolution of retiring to the family 
estate left in Stockbridge by his father, who had 
died nine years before. At this time he was in 
possession of an extensive and increasing practice. 
He had acquired a high standing at the Albany 
Bar, then adorned by some of the very ablest law- 
yers in the Union, and the successful exercise of his 
talents and learning was every day raising him 
to still higher eminence. There are few men who 
would not have clung to such an opportunity of 



THEODORE SEDGWICK. 17 

acquiring wealth and distinction — few who would 
not have tried a short secession from the labours 
of their profession for health's sake, in the hope of 
resuming them with new spirit. But it was not 
in his nature to be greedy of wealth, and mere 
distinction had slight hold upon his mind. He 
appears to have given up the prospect of both 
without regret, and went back to the beautiful 
spot which had been the home of his youth, not to 
waste the remainder of his life in idleness, but to 
mingle with the healthful employments of the 
country, those projects of doing good for which 
the benevolent man everywhere finds scope. 

Few men have fulfilled more completely their 
plans of retirement from professional business. 
The remainder of his life was a life of beneficence ; 
his example and his way of thought had a visible 
and most favorable influence upon the community 
in which he lived, and in the salubrious air of his 
native fields he regained the health he had lost. 

In 1824, and the year following, he was returned 
to the Massachusetts House of Representatives, 
and again in 1827. It was in the latter year that 
he brought forward a project for constructing a 
railroad from Boston to Albany, which met at the 
time with vehement opposition, but has been since 
carried into execution with universal assent. Of 
that enterprise, which is to make amends to Mas- 
sachusetts for the want of a great navigable river 
throughout her whole extent, he was the first to 



18 THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

perceive and urge the advantages, and may justly 
be reputed its author. 

Mr. Sedo:wick took a strons^ interest in the im- 
provement of agriculture, and was twice elected 
President of the Berkshire Agricultural Society. 
He was particularly attentive to the cultivation of 
the various kinds of fruit to which our climate is 
congenial, esteeming them, with reason, as among 
the most innocent and natural of luxuries, suited 
to a palate and stomach undepraved by stimula- 
ting food, and he therefore held the opinion that 
their cultivation and consumption was friendly to 
temperate, healthful, and rational habits of life. 
Among the changes of modern manners, one which 
he most regretted, was the general tendency to 
luxurious and expensive modes of living, and the 
abandonment of the simple and frugal habits of our 
ancestors. He regarded this change as unfavora- 
ble to the morals, the intelligence, the physical 
vigor, and general happiness of the American 
race, and strove to counteract it in various ways — 
by his example, his public discourses, and his 
writings. His ideas upon this and various kindred 
subjects, have been given to his countrymen in a 
work entitled "Public and Private Economy." It 
is full of wise and just views, and is informed by a 
warm and genuine philanthropy. It was the prin- 
cipal design of this work to prr>mote an object 
which lay nearest the heart of its author — that of 
narrowing more and more the limits of poverty, 



THEODORE SEDGWICK. 19 

ignorance, and vice among his countrymen — of 
inspiring them with the love of personal indepen- 
dence, giving them habits of reflection, teaching 
them reverence for each other's rights, and thus 
bringing about that equality of condition which is 
most favorable to the morals and happiness of 
society, and to the working of our political in- 
stitutions. 

I have already spoken of the strong interest 
taken by Mr. Sedgwick in political questions. 
Perhaps the reader will infer his political opinions 
from what has just been said concerning his book. 
He was educated a federalist, and in early life 
was a follower of that school, which, without de- 
ciding upon its other merits, must be allowed to 
have numbered, among its disciples, some of the 
ablest and most virtuous men whom the country 
ever produced. A strange fusion of parties took 
place immediately after the late war with Great 
Britain ; the lines of party association were oblite- 
rated, and though there was still much difference in 
men's views concerning the proper objects of legis- 
lation and the just construction of the Constitution, 
yet they who agreed on these subjects scarcely 
recognized each other as engaged in a common 
cause. In this pause of party spirit Mr. Sedg- 
wick's reflections appear to have taken a new di- 
rection, which led him farther and farther from his 
early political faith, and when men again began to 
associate in support of their opinions, he took the 



20 THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

side of the democratic party. He declared him- 
self in favor of the election of General Jackson to 
the presidency, and from that time to his death 
his sympathies were with the party by whom that 
gentleman was supported. However much his 
early political friends might have been surprised 
at finding themselves separated from him, they 
could not doubt the perfect purity and disinterest- 
edness of his motives. 

He warmly espoused the freedom of trade in 
opposition to a protective tariff, when the country 
rang with the warfare of that great controversy. 
His opinions on this question were at that time 
quite unpopular in the region where he resided, 
but he was not a man to declare them with the 
less frankness, or support them with the less zeal, 
because of their unpopularity. He took part in 
the proceedings of the Free Trade Convention 
held at Philadelphia, and lived to see the opinions 
he maintained adopted by great numbers of per- 
sons in his native county. 

He w^as twice a candidate for a seat in Con- 
gress from the western district of Massachusetts, 
once in 1834, and again in 183G. His personal 
popularity, great as it is known to have been, 
was overpowered by the predominance of the 
party hostile to the Administration, and he lost 
his election. 

His ideas respecting the objects and measures 
of government were tinged by his pecuhar moral 



THEODORE SEDGWICK. 21 

constitution. His temperament was that of hope 
and universal kindness ; he looked forward to a 
brightening future for the world, and he judged 
favorably of his fellow-men. He doubted whether 
many things which have been made the objects 
of legislation, would not be better cared for if left 
to themselves, and he deprecated all unnecessary 
legislation as a useless and hurtful abridgment of 
personal freedom. 

I remember to have heard him speak of the 
remarkable change of habits in New England, in 
regard to the use of spirituous and fermented 
liquors, as a great and glorious moral victory, 
honorable to mankind, to the age, and to the 
country. He rejoiced — no man could rejoice 
more — at the spectacle of a great people throw- 
ing off, at one effort, the power of a vice which 
binds men in chains harder to break than almost 
any other. Yet he deprecated the intermeddling 
of the law with a reform which was owing solely 
to moral causes, to persuasion and voluntary reso- 
lution, and feared that when an attempt was made 
to enforce temperance by statutes and penalties, 
the effect would be mischievous. He was there- 
fore adverse from the first to the measure called 
the fifteen-gallon law, and to all legislation of a 
like character. 

Of Mr. Sedgwick's opinions on another much 
agitated question, I find the following account 
given by a writer in the Democratic Review, to 



22 THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

whom I confess my obligations in compiling this 
memoir.* 

" With reference to the subject of slavery, his 
views were equally characterised by his habitual 
liberality, moderation, independence, and sympa- 
thy with the cause of human freedom. They 
were fully stated in a letter addressed to the Anti- 
Slavery Convention assembled at Albany on the 
first of August, 1839, in reply to an invitation 
which he had received to attend the convention. 
lie declined the invitation, though with not less 
courtesy than firmness, declaring at the same time 
his hostility to slavery as a great moral, political, 
and social evil, and his devotion to the unlimited 
right of free discussion, impliedly guarantied in 
the })resent case by that provision made in the 
Constitution for its own amendment. He con- 
demned the movement upon Congress, out of 
w^hich so much excited bitterness had grown, as 
a wrong and mistaken one, — as he also considered 
the spirit which, with many noble exceptions, had 
characterised too much of the asfitation of this 
subject at the north, and which had naturally 
awakened a strong feeling of exasperation on the 
part of the south, as widely at variance with that 
which should animate a great moral and demo- 
cratic cause, such as he regarded the object of 

* Political Portraits, No. XVII. in the Democratic Re- 
view for February, 1840. 



THEODORE SEDGWICK. 23 

effecting the voluntary and peaceful termination 
of American slavery. This letter was a noble 
and beautiful production, and transparent through- 
out with the character of the mind and heart of 
the man." 

That generosity and kindness of heart which dis- 
tinguished Mr. Sedgwick in private life, he carried 
into party controversies. He was candid towards 
his opponents, ready to do the amplest justice to 
their talents and virtues, and to put the fairest con- 
struction upon their words and actions. He re- 
gretted that political disputes are so often made 
fierce and bitter by the collision of personal inte- 
rests, and earnestly desired that they might be 
so conducted as to separate, as far as possible, 
the one from the other. With such views, he 
was exceedingly averse to those removals from 
office for opinion's sake which have been too 
much the practice of both parties, deeming that 
they have a tendency to turn an election into a 
struggle between selfish men for the advantages 
of office, and to stifle the true voice of the people 
on the great questions before them. 

Mr. Sedgwick died on the 6th of November, 
1839. He attended on that day a meeting of his 
political friends, held at Pittsfield, in anticipation 
of the approaching State election. At the close 
of an address, marked with more than even his 
wonted earnestness and eloquence, and full of that 
moral truth which distinguished his political ad- 



24 THEODORE SEDGWICK. 

dresses from those of most other men, he was 
smitten with an apoplectic stroke, and shortly 
afterwards expired. " He died," said his political 
friends, " with his harness on ;" but all metaphors 
drawn from the cruel art of war are inappropri- 
ate to the life and death of such a man. Men of 
all parties sorrowed that so enlightened an intel- 
lect was quenched for this earth, and that a 
heart so warm with the love of his fellow-crea- 
tures had ceased to beat. 



25 



WILLIAM DUNLAP. 



BY JOHN INMAN. 



William Dunlap was born at Perth Amboy, in 
the State, then Province, of New Jersey, on the 
19th of February, 1766. His father, Samuel Dun- 
lap, had been an Irish lieutenant of infantry, and 
served in the French war ; he was an ensign at the 
battle on the plains of Abraham, where he bore 
the colors of the 47th, or "Wolfe's Own," regi- 
ment, and was wounded. Subsequently he mar- 
ried at Perth Amboy, and resigned his commis- 
sion, preferring the solid comforts of a peaceful 
life to the excitement of danger and the fascina- 
tions of military glory. 

The American Revolution commenced when 
William was yet a mere child, and the distrac- 
tions and commotions by which it was preceded, 
as well as attended, left but little opportunity or 
means for the education of one whose parents oc- 
cupied a station so near the centre of action. He 
was fortunate, however, in attracting the notice 
of an old gentleman, somewhat of a humorist, 
whose moderately well-furnished library, and 
cheerful, instructive conversation, proved greatly 
attractive to the child, and supplied, perhaps more 

3 



26 WILLIAM DUNLAP. 

than supplied, the want of more methodical tui- 
tion. At all events, in his frequent visits to this 
early friend he v^as enabled to amuse himself 
with examining volumes that contained engra- 
vings, and some oil paintings, of no particular 
merit perhaps, but sufhciently glorious for the un- 
critical eye of youth ; and thus was developed, if 
not generated, that taste for the graphic art which 
in after-years was to make the boy a painter. 

When he was about nine years old he lost this 
valuable friend, who, for the sake of peace and 
security, removed to another State at the break- 
ing out of the Revolutionary war. The same 
event induced the removal of Lieutenant Dunlap, 
the father, to New York, in 1777; previous to 
which, however, the boy had seen with his own 
eyes a specimen of the brutalities and excesses 
that follow in the train of war, as well as some of 
its pictures(|ue eirects. 

At j\ew York the education of the lad was 
commenced, selon les regies^ but it was soon inter- 
rupted by an accident which deprived him of one 
eye, and from the consequences of which he was 
long in recovering. Books and pictures were his 
amusement during the long and weary hours of 
illness, and to these were added implements for 
drawing, the taste beginning to manifest itself in 
action. It was encouraged also by the engage- 
ment of an instructor ; but his lessons were not 
long continued. The boy imagined himself able 



WILLIAM DUNLAP. 27 

to take portraits — probably in crayon — and, re- 
ceiving applause from his relatives and compa- 
nions, at the age of sixteen began to work at a 
settled price and for all comers. His price was 
high, considering the time and his own degree of 
ability : he had three guineas each for his por- 
traits. 

In 1783 he made a journey to Philadelphia, 
where he visited with great admiration the paint- 
ing-rooms of Charles Wilson Peale. In the au- 
tumn of the same year he passed some time at 
Princeton, where the Congress was then in session, 
and at Rocky Hill, the head-quarters of General 
Washington. At the latter place he enjoyed the 
privilege of frequent intercourse with the illustri- 
ous founder of our independence, who sat to him 
for a portrait, which is still in existence. He also 
made a portrait of Mrs., or, as she was then called, 
Lady Washington. He was present at the evacu- 
ation of New York by the British forces, in 
November, 1783, and soon after embarked for 
England. 

His first oil painting was done in 1782 — a fancy 
portrait of Admiral Sir Samuel Hood, for a sign ; 
his second, a full-length of General Washington, 
was in 1783. This last he took with him to Lon- 
don, as a passport to the rooms of Mr. West, who 
had already been applied to in his behalf, and had 
consented to receive him as a pupil. 

In June, 1784, our young artist arrived in Lon- 



28 WILLIAM DUNLAP. 

don, where he remained until August, 1787, pass- 
ing his time chiefly, according to his own account, 
in the pursuit of amusement, and accomplishing 
little to either his advantage or his credit as a stu- 
dent. His bashfulness prevented him from profit- 
ing, as he should have done, by his means of in- 
tercourse with West, and the temptations of the 
great city were too strong for a young man of 20, 
amply provided with money, and having no one 
near him to guide or to control his actions. 

On his return to New York, in October, 1787, 
he set up as a portrait painter by profession, but 
with little success, and soon after embarked with 
his father in trade. Not long after he married a 
Miss Woolsey, and by this fortunate connexion 
was brought into associations that were eminently 
profitable to him in the formation of his charac- 
ter, and in leading him to better pursuits than he 
had been engaged in following. President Dwight, 
of Yale College, had married one of his wife's sis- 
ters, and his other relatives by this marriage were 
men of character and standing. 

From this time to 1805 he abandoned painting 
almost entirely. On the death of his father he 
emancipated the slaves that fell to him as part of 
his heritage ; subsequently embarked in theatrical 
speculations, which proved unfortunate ; and in 
1805 his ruin was completed by the default of the 
United States marshal in New Jersey, for whom 
he had become security. 



WILLIAM DUNLAP. 39 

Driven to the practice of his art for the support 
of his family, he went to Boston and sought em- 
ployment as a miniature painter. Employment 
came, and for a season he was busy and content- 
ed. After a profitable sojourn at Boston he went 
to Washington, and arranged his debt to the Go- 
vernment on account of the marshal. Thence he 
returned to his family, at Perth Amboy, and sup- 
posed himself established for life as a painter of 
miniatures. 

A speedy change took place. Thomas A. 
Cooper, then of high reputation as a tragedian, 
had become lessee of the only theatre in New 
York, and Dunlap was tempted to join him as 
stage manager. In this post he remained until 
1812, when he again took up the pencil, and at the 
same time embarked in authorship. He wrote a 
memoir of George Frederick Cooke, and another 
of Charles Brockden Brown, the novelist ; and also 
commenced a periodical, under the name of The 
Recorder. This failed, and once more he devoted 
himself to painting, having now added portraits in 
oil to his miniature practice. 

In 1814, he was unexpectedly appointed assist- 
ant paymaster of the NewYork militia, in the ser- 
vice of the United States, and occupied this post 
until 18 17, when he again became a painter, at the 
age of 51. From this time until the autumn of 
1819 he remained in New York, painting portraits 

with great industry, and making decided improve- 
3* 



30 WILLIAM DUNLAP. 

ment. At this time, sitters becoming rare, he 
made a professional visit to Virginia, and passed 
the winter at Norfolk, where he did exceedingly 
well. The summer of 1820 he spent in Quebec 
and Montreal, where he painted a goodly number 
of portraits, and as winter approached, betook 
himself again to New York, where he again found 
sitters numerous. He found time, however, to 
make a study for a great })icture, copied, without 
seeing the original, from the " Christ Rejected" of 
Benjamin West ; we say copied, for the design 
was made from the publrshed descriptions of that 
work, but of course much was left to the inven- 
tion of the imitator, who had never seen the 
original. 

On his return to New York, in the summer of 
1821, he devoted himself, with much ardor, to the 
accomplishment of this great work, for which he 
had no better painting-room than the garret of his 
house, of course very badly lighted for an artist. 
He worked at it with unabated zeal until the ap- 
proach of winter, when he again proceeded to Vir- 
ginia, taking his great canvas with him, and there 
finished it. At Norfolk it was exhibited with en- 
couraging success, and subsequently at Philadel- 
phia, Boston, Portland, and New York. Artists 
praised it with discriminating kindness, and the 
public bestowed jupon it so much attention that 
Mr. Dunlap, finding little to do in portraits, began 
to think of other large pictures, and of deriving a 



WILLIAM DUNLAP. 31 

SHfRcient income from their exhibition. He com- 
menced a second, " The Bearing of the Cross," 
which was finished in the autumn of 1824 ; and in 
1^25 he painted a study, or sketch, for a third 
large picture, which he called " Calvary." In the 
summer he began upon the large canvas, but be- 
fore he had made any great progress, he com- 
menced a fourth, partly composed and partly 
copied from West's " Death on the Pale Horse," 
which was ready for exhibition in the fall, only 
two months and twenty-six days intervening be- 
tween the commencement of the outline and the 
completion of the picture ; a great display of in- 
dustry in a man of 60. 

From this time until the spring of 1828 he 
worked at intervals upon the "Calvary" — wrote 
some occasional pieces for the Bowery Theatre — 
and painted several portraits, among the best of 
which was a small full-length of his friend, Mr. 
Hackett, the comedian, in one of his Yankee 
characters. The means of subsistence were de- 
rived chiefly from the exhibition of the Christ Re- 
jected, the Bearing of the Cross, and the Death on 
the Pale Horse, which were travelling all over 
the country, with varying, but, on the whole, rea- 
sonable success. To use Mr. Dunlap's own ex- 
pressions, " at one place a picture w^ould be put up 
in a church, and a sermon preached in recommen- 
dation of it ; at another, the people would be told 
from the pulpit to avoid it as blasphemous; in 



32 WILLIAM DUNLAP. 

another, the agent is seized for violating the law 
taxing puppet-shows ; and when on his way to a 
fourth, he is brought back by constables, like a 
criminal, and obliged to pay the tax and their 
charges for making him a prisoner. Here the 
agent would be encouraged by the first people of 
the place, and treated by the clergy as if he were 
a saint ; and there, received as a mountebank and 
insulted by a mob." 

In the spring of 1828 the Calvary was finished 
and exhibited. He considered it his best compo- 
sition, and the opinion is probably just. In the 
winter of 1830 he got up a hasty i)icture of the 
"Attack on the Louvre" in the French Revolution 
of that year, but its exhibition had no success. 
He also wrote and delivered lectures to the stu- 
dents of the National Academy. In the course 
of the next winter he lectured on the fine arts 
before the Mercantile Library Association, and 
again to the students of the Academy ; he also 
gave public lectures on the subjects of his pictures, 
then collected in the gallery of Clinton Hall, and 
made some profit by the exhibition. He had oc- 
casionally some portraits to paint, but his pecu- 
niary circumstances were by no means flourish- 
ing ; and as age and sickness came upon him, he 
would have suffered much from poverty but for 
the kindness and generosity of the many friends 
he had secured by his talents, his amiable dispo- 
sition, and his probity. He had been engaged for 



WILLIAM DUNLAP. 33 

some years upon a History of the American 
Stage, which was pubUshed by subscription in 
November, 1832, and yielded him a handsome 
remuneration. In 1833, a festival benefit at the 
Park Theatre was got up for him, the proceeds 
of which were more than $2500. 

This timely addition to his resources enabled 
him to complete a work for which he had long 
been collecting materials — his History of the Rise 
and Progress of the Arts of Design in the United 
States, in two volumes octavo, pubhshed, also by 
subscription, in 1834: a most valuable work, and 
highly creditable to his talents and industry. He 
subsequently published a novel, entitled " The 
Cold-Water Man," and an excellent compend of 
the History of the State of New York, for the 
use of schools. He was engaged upon a larger 
history of the same State, when he was carried 
off by an attack of paralysis on 23d September, 
1839, at the age of 73. The history was pub- 
lished after his death. 

Mr. Danlap was in all respects an estimable 
man. If he had little genius, its want was perhaps 
more than supplied by good natural abilities, sound 
judgment, and unwearied industry. His modesty 
of speech and deportment was remarkable, and 
it was accompanied by great amenity of temper 
and goodness of heart. In conversation he was 
most interesting, upon general subjects, as well as 
upon those more especially relating to his art. 



34 WILLIAM DUNLAP. 

Eminently patient, and even cheerful, under afilic^ 
tion, his rich stores of anecdote were ever at the 
service of his companions in the social circle, yet 
he was always more ready to listen than to speak. 
For works of benevolence he was at all times 
prompt, according to his ability ; and his grati- 
tude for kindness was at once deep, unobtrusive, 
and dif-^iificd. His associations throufjh a lonir 
hfe were chiefly with the distinguished men of his 
time, and among such perhaps no man ever had 
warmer friends. In his heart there seemed no 
place for envy. If he had no claim to the title of 
great, all conceded to him that of good ; and if he 
was not illustrious, none will deny that in his 
sphere, and up to the measure of his ability, ho 
was honorably useful. 



35 



B. B. TEACHER. 

Benjamin B. Thacher was a native of the State 
of Maine, where his father long enjoyed a high 
standing at the bar, and was for several years a 
member of Congress. In early life, Mr. Thacher 
gave evidence of an active and inquiring mind, 
and during his academic career, was noted 
for literary ability. He was graduated at Bow- 
doin College in 1826, and immediately commenc- 
ed the study of law. With a view of com- 
pleting his professional studies, he soon after re- 
moved to Boston, Mass. Here his taste for 
literature divided his attention with legal pursuits, 
and after being admitted to practice, his pen was 
constantly devoted to the leading periodicals of 
the day, the preparation of popular lectures, and 
for several years to the editorship of a daily 
journal. Of a philanthropic spirit, his time and 
talents were largely given to the benevolent en- 
terprises of the day. He had especially at heart 
the cause of African colonization, the Temperance 
reform, and the claims of the Aborigines. His 
interest in the latter subject gave birth to his 
most elaborate literary production — an Indian 
Biography, prepared with great research and em- 
bodying numerous interesting aboriginal memoirs. 



36 BENJAMIN B. THACHER. 

This work was published by Harper & Brothers, 
and constitutes two volumes of their Family Li- 
brary. It at once established the author's repu- 
tation. He subsequently prepared two other 
volumes, entitled Indian Traits, which was pub- 
lished by the same house. For a period of ten 
years, Mr. Thacher was a voluminous contribu- 
tor to the Magazines and Reviews of the day, and 
these occupations gradually withdrew him from 
the practice of law to the exclusive pursuit of 
literature. Several of his poems and lectures 
were deservedly popular. Habits of unremit- 
ting application made such inroads upon his 
health, that in the autumn of 1838 he was induced 
to try the effects of an European tour. The 
greater part of two years was passed in England, 
where his articles in some of the leading literary 
journals were very favorably received. He re- 
turned, however, with the symptoms of his dis- 
ease much aggravated, and after lingering several 
months, expired on the 14th of July, 1840, at the 
age of 31. His persevering industry and excel- 
lent character gave promise of extensive useful- 
ness : and his early death was widely lamented. 




JESSEIB'ULEL 



Ijinf'ii-('( KfMiiicll •riiblislifrs 



37 



JESSE BUEL. 



BY PROFESSOR AMOS DEAN. 



Jesse Buel was born at Coventry, in the State of 
Connecticut, on the 4th day of January, 1778. 
From early boyhood he seems to have had the 
direction of his own course, his parents wisely 
leaving to his own disposition and inclinations the 
choice of that which should mainly constitute the 
business of . his hfe. When he had arrived at the 
age of twelve years, the family, including himself, 
moved from Coventry to Rutland, Vermont ; and 
two years afterwards, when he had completed 
the age of fourteen, he became an apprentice to 
the printing business in the office of Mr. Lyons, of 
Rutland. The first four years of his term were 
distinguished by a close, assiduous, and unremit- 
ted attention to the attainment of the printing art. 
At the end of that time he succeeded in purchas- 
ing of Mr. Lyons the unexpired three years of 
his regular term, and thus at the age of eighteen 
was enabled to exchange the apprentice for the 
journeyman. He went immediately to the city 
of New York, where he labored as a journeyman 
during the desolating ravages of the yellow fever. 
In June, 1797, he formed a connexion in business 
4 



38 JESSE BUEL. 

with Mr. Moffit, of Troy, and commenced the 
publication of the Troy Budget. In September, 
1801, at the age of twenty-three, he married Miss 
Susan Pierce, of Troy, and immediately removed 
to Poughkeepsie, where, in connexion with Mr. 
Joiner, he commenced the publication of a weekly 
paper called the Guardian. He afterward, in 
connexion with another, published the Political 
Banner. This last proved to be an unfortunate 
business connexion ; and after about a year's con- 
tinuance, either through the mismanagen)ent or 
dishonesty of his partner, he found himself reduced 
to utter bankruptcy. 

In this reduced condition, he did not, like too 
many, yield himself up to fatal despondency ; but, 
with the unshaken assurance of success which 
naturally results from the firm determination to 
deserve it, he went forward, never for one mo- 
ment losing confidence in the general integrity of 
men, or in the ultimate success of industry and 
application. He left Poughkeepsie and removed 
to Kingston, Ulster county, where he commenced, 
and for ten years continued to edit, a weekly 
paper called the Plebeian. 

In 1813, Judge Buel removed to Albany and 
commenced the Albany Argus. In 1814 he was 
appointed printer to the State, the duties of which, 
together with the editorship of the Argus, he con- 
tinued to discharge until the year 1820, at which 
time he sold out, with the determination to aban- 



JESSE BUEL. 39 

don the printing business. While engaged in that 
business he always performed himself the labor 
essential to its successful prosecution. He was 
always the setter of his own types, and, until he 
came to Albany, the worker of his own press. 

After disposing of his printing establishment 
and business, he purchased a farm of eighty-five 
acres of land near the city of Albany, wliich he 
converted from " sandy barrens" into what has 
long been extensively and favorably known as the 
"Albany Nursery." While residing on his farm, 
since 1821, he has several times represented the 
city and county of Albany in the popular branch 
of the New York Legislature ; has been for seve- 
ral years, and was at the time of his death, a Re- 
gent of the University; and in the fall of 1836 
received the Whig support as their candidate for 
the office of Governor of the State of New 
York. 

The political doctrines of Judge Buel were 
plain and practical. He held that office, instead 
of being made for men, should be made hy them ; 
that it conferred far less privileges than it imposed 
duties ; that it was a trust reposed, and its incum- 
bent a trustee, and responsible for the proper per- 
formance of the trust ; and that it was no farther 
honorable than as an indication of trust and confi- 
dence on the part of those whose intelligence and 
moral worth were the vouchers for its value. 

It is, however, the agricultural labors of Judge 



40 JESSE BUEL. 

Buel that have been the most extensively valuable 
to the largest classes of the community. He 
adopted and strongly enforced the new system of 
agriculture, which consists mainly in sustaining 
and strengthening the soil, while its productive 
qualities are put into requisition ; in rendering the 
farm every year more valuable, by annually in- 
creasing both its products and its power of pro- 
ducing, — and this is accomplished chieily by ma- 
nuring, by draining, by good tillage, by alterna- 
ting crops, by root culture, and by the substitution 
of fallow croi)s for naked fallows. 

In 1834 he commenced the publication of the 
paper so long and well known as " The Cultiva- 
tor" which, from a cheap, small sheet, possessing 
a limited circulation, became, shortly previous to 
his death, much enlarged, its subscription price 
increased, and the number of its subscribers ex- 
tended to twenty-three thousand. 

The motto adopted for his Cultivator, and which 
he fully carried into practice, was, "To improve 
the soil, and the mind." In his view, all the enjoy- 
ments of mere physical existence were possessed 
of but little real value when unaccompanied by 
the higher delights of a mental being. His sys- 
tem of education, however, like his system of ag- 
riculture, was eminently practical ; and like that, 
too, it would endeavor to strengthen the produ- 
cing power, while it developed its products. He 
would guide the effort of muscle by the direction 



JESSE BUEL. 41 

of mind. While cultivating the land, he would 
enjoy the landscape ; while caging the bird, he 
would not be insensible to its music. He taught 
men that agricultural prosperity resulted neither 
from habit nor chance ; that success was subject 
to the same law in this as in other departments of 
industry, and before it could be secured, must be 
deserved ; that mind, intellectual power, and moral 
purpose, constituted as essential parts in the ele- 
ments of agricultural prosperity as of any other ; 
and all these truths he enforced by precept, and 
illustrated by practice. 

But his career of usefulness was fast arriving 
at its termination. While on his way to Norwich 
and New Haven he was seized with the bilious 
chohc at Danbury, Connecticut, on Saturday night, 
the 22d September, 1839. About three days after 
this attack a bilious fever supervened, under which 
he continued gradually to decline until the after- 
noon of the 6th of October, when, after faintly ut- 
tering the name of his absent companion, with 
whom he had shared the toils, and troubles, and 
triumphs of almost forty years, he calmly, and 
without a groan or a struggle, cancelled the debt 
which his birth had created, and " yielded up his 
spirit to God, who gave it." He died in the field 
of his labors ; in the midst of his usefulness ; in 
the full maturity of his mental faculties. 

The character and general habit of his mind 
was in the highest degree practical. The value 
4* 



42 JESSE BUEL. 

and importance he attached to a thing, were de- 
duced from his estimate of its uses ; and those uses 
consisted of the number and importance of the 
apphcations which he perceived could be made 
of it to the common pui*poses of hfe. He regard- 
ed life as being more made up of daily duties than 
of remarkable events ; and his estimate of the 
value of a principle, or proposed plan of opera- 
tions, was derived from the extent to which ap- 
plication could be made of it to life's every-day 
matters. 

As a writer, Judge BucFs merit consists simply 
in his telling, in plain language, just the thing he 
thought. He seemed neither to expect or desire 
that his communications would possess with other 
minds any more weight than the ideas contained 
in them would justly entitle them to. With him 
words meant things, and not simply their shadows. 
He came to the common mind like an old familiar 
acquaintance ; and although he brought to it new 
ideas, yet they consisted in conceptions clearly 
comprehensible in themselves, and conveyed in 
the plainest and most intelligible terms. 

His writings are principally to be found in the 
many addresses he has delivered ; in the six vol- 
umes of his Cultivator; in the small volume (made 
up, however, principally or entirely from materi- 
als taken from the Cultivator,) published by the 
Harpers, of New York ; and in the " Farmer's 
Companion," the last and most perfect of his 



JESSE BUEL. 43 

works, published under the auspices of the Mas- 
sachusetts Board of Education, and constituting 
one of the numbers of the second series of their 
truly invaluable District School Library. 

The example of Judge Buel, as well as his 
works, affords much practical instruction. There 
is hardly a situation or condition in Hfe to which 
some incident, event, or portion of his existence 
does not apply with peculiar force and afford 
great encouragement. 

To the wealthy, those who by successful indus- 
try have accumulated competent fortunes, it teach- 
es the salutary lesson, that continued happiness 
can only be secured by continued industry ; that 
the highly gifted mind must feel a responsibility 
for the legitimate exercise of its powers ; and that, 
when the requisite capacity is possessed, the one 
can be the most effectually secured, and the other 
satisfied, by communicating to other minds the re- 
sults of a long experience, of much varied obser- 
vation and accumulated knowledge, and many ori- 
ginal and profound reflections upon men and things. 

To those who have sustained losses, been un- 
fortunate in business, and had the slow accumula- 
tions of years suddenly swept away by accident, 
misfortune, or fraud, it teaches the important truth, 
that 

"In the Lexicon of youth, which fate reserves 
For a bright manhood, there is no such word 

As FAIL ;" 



44 JESSE BUEL. 

that undaunted resolution, rigid economy, close 
calculation, prudent management, aided by re- 
newed application, and well-directed, persever- 
ing industry, can never fail, except in cases very 
uncommon, to retrieve their circumstances, re- 
store their condition, and, by the excellent habits 
they create, to send them forward on the mutable 
course of life, with fresh assurance, renewed hope, 
and more confident anticipations. 

To the youth who has just commenced thread- 
ing the devious paths of young existence, who is 
beginning to open his senses and his faculties to 
the appreciation and enjoyment of the aliment 
with which God has furnished them, it speaks a 
language at once impressive and inviting. It pre- 
sents the instance of one from among them, born 
in poverty, having all the hardships, obstacles, and 
disadvantages so frequently occurring in early life 
to contend with, with no other inheritance than a 
sound mind in a sound body, working his way 
onward and upward, to the esteem, respect, and 
confidence of his fellow-men. There have been 
no peculiarly favorable combinations of circum- 
stances to contribute to his progress and advance- 
ment. No miracle has been wrought in his favor, 
nor acts of magic enlisted in his aid. Nothing 
whatever has contributed to remove his case out 
of the empire of that same cause and eflxjct in 
subjection to which all the phenomena of life are 
evolved. It is the obvious case of distinction and 



JESSE BUEL. 45 

a high reputation, acquired and earned by the 
most persevering industry, the most scrupulous 
regard for right, the exercise of superior intellect, 
the practice of every virtue ; and its plain, practi- 
cal language to the youth of our land is — " Go 
thou and do likewise. You are supported by the 
same soil, overhung by the same heavens, sur- 
rounded by the same classes of objects, and sub- 
jected to the action of the same all-pervading 
laws. Would you possess the same good ? Ac- 
quire it by a resort to similar means." 

To all, it addresses a consoling language, in the 
fact that vpe here see industry recompensed ; un- 
obtrusive merit rew^arded ; intellectual action ac- 
complishing its objects ; high moral worth appre- 
ciated ; and the unostentatious virtues of a life 
held in due esteem, respect, and consideration. 
This tends to create a strong confidence in the 
benignity of the laws that regulate human afl[airs ; 
to inspire a higher degree of respect and reve- 
rence for the constituent elements of human na- 
ture ; and to give birth to that sentiment strongly 
embodied in the language — God^ I thank Thee that 
I am a man. 



46 



JUDGE WHITE. 



BY HORACE GREELEY. 



Hugh Lawson White, the eminent jurist and 
statesman of Tennessee, was born in Iredell 
County, North Carolina, in the year 1773. His 
father, James White, removed from that section 
in 1786, and settled in what is now Knox county, 
East Tennessee, but which was then within the 
chartered limits of North Carolina, and familiarly 
known as the wilderness ! In 1792, Hugh, then a 
stripling of nineteen, volunteered to act as a pri- 
vate in the defence of the exposed settlements of 
the West, against the hostilities of their savage 
neighbors, and served through the campaign with 
credit and efficiency. 

Prior to 1800, the facilities for learning, west of 
the Mountains, were limited indeed, and young 
White here acquired but the common rudiments 
of an English education. In 1794-5, however, 
he visited Philadelphia, where he completed a 
course of mathematical study, preparatory to a 
professional life; and in 1795 he devoted some 
months to the study of the law, in the office of 
James Hopkins, at Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Re- 
turning to Tennessee in 1796, he immediately 



JUDGE WHITE. 47 

commenced the practice of the law at Knox- 
ville. 

Although the foundation thus laid may well 
seem a slight and imperfect one, yet, in truth, 
young White possessed in himself — in his intrinsic 
and early developed characteristics — the elements 
of a legal career, leading through success to 
eminence. In his character, a patient, indefatiga- 
ble industry and steadiness of effort were com- 
bined with a calm self-possession, and a mental 
acuteness rarely surpassed. Clear-headed, logi- 
cal, and self-relying, he had early resolved on the 
attainment of distinction and fame in his profes- 
sion, and he inflexibly, ardently pursued the strait 
and narrow path which led to the goal of his 
ambition. But the qualities which most com- 
mended him to the confidence and esteem of his 
fellow citizens, were an unbending uprightness 
and integrity of character, blended with a purity 
of motive and of life, which were so eminently 
displayed, and so consistently maintained, through 
the temptations and vicissitudes of a long and 
eventful life, that in after-years they passed into 
a proverb ; and not only in his own State, but 
measurably throughout the South- West, Hugh 
L. White was familiarly compared to Aristides, 
and reverently regarded as the Cato of the Re- 
public. 

Such a man, however unaspiring, would not 
long escape the public honors and testimonials of 



48 JUDGE WHITE. 

confidence of a people as virtuous, and as little 
distracted or blinded by party animosities, as 
were the citizens of Tennessee forty years ago. 
In 1801, at the early age of twenty-eight, Mr. 
White was appointed a justice of the Supreme 
Court of that State, and continued in the dis- 
charge of the duties of that station until 1807. 
In 1808, he was appointed by President Jefferson 
a United States' District Attorney ; and in 1809, 
elected a member of the State Senate, where he 
distinguished himself by his active agency in 
modifying and improving the land laws of Ten- 
nessee. About this time the Supreme Court of the 
State w^as remodeled and re-established, and, dur- 
ing his absence from the seat of government, he 
was again placed on the Bench. He immediately 
relinquished all other public employments, to re- 
sume one so congenial with his tastes and acquire- 
ments, and for six years he discharged the duties 
of that station with unsurpassed ability, and to 
universal acceptation. His reported opinions are 
regarded by the profession as evincing great 
strength and perspicuity of reasoning ; and his 
eminence as a jurist is attested by the familiar 
fact, that, after he had abandoned the Bench for 
more exciting and conspicuous theatres of public 
duty and exertion, he was still universally known 
as ' Judge White,' through all the mutations of an 
eventful quarter of a century. 

In 1815, Judge White resigned his seat on the 



JUDGE WHITE. 49 

Bench, and accepted the presidency of the State 
Bank of Tennessee, of which institution he re- 
mained at the head for a number of years. Under 
his wise and judicious counsels the Bank pros- 
pered abundantly and contributed powerfully to 
develope the resources and advance the pros- 
perity of the State. No moneyed institution was 
ever more deservedly popular. During his pre- 
sidency, he was again, (in 1820,) elected to the 
State Senate ; and about the same time he was 
appointed by President Monroe one of the com- 
missioners to adjust the claims of our citizens on 
Spain, for the satisfaction of which provisions 
had been made by a recent treaty. He accepted 
the appointment, and discharged its duties with 
his accustomed fidelity ; but refused to accept the 
extravagant compensation to which the commis- 
sioners were entitled. At another time he was 
chosen a commissioner to settle important land 
claims, which were in dispute between Virginia 
and Kentucky, and acted wdth equal ability and 
acceptance. 

In 1825, he was unanimously elected a Senator 
of the United States, to which station he was re- 
elected with entire unanimity in 1831, and again 
in 1837. It was in the capacity of Senator that 
he first became prominent in the eyes of the 
Union. 

Judge White took a high stand in the Senate, 
from the date of his appearance on its floor. To 

5 



50 JUDGE WHITE. 

the presidential elevation of his old friend and 
predecessor, General Jackson, he gave a steady 
and efficient support. He shared in the triumph 
of 1828, but refused, at that and all subsequent 
times, to take office under the federal government, 
prefering to serve in the station to which the peo- 
ple of Tennessee had elected him. He held the 
important post of chairman of the Senate's com- 
mittee on Indian affiiirs, and as such was required 
to defend and sustain the new Administration at 
the point most exposed to attack, and most diffi- 
cult to defend. During the early years of Gene- 
ral Jackson's administration, before the bank con- 
troversy had overborne all remoter considerations, 
the Indian policy of the government was the 
chief ground of attack from the Opposition. That 
policy diflcred from the maxims of all preceding 
executives, in that it affirmed the absolute sove- 
reignty of each State in the Union within its 
chartered limits, and the consequent nulHty of 
every law or treaty of the United States which 
should stipulate or promise any thing conflicting 
with that sovereignty. Of course, all the treaties 
by which ' the United States solemnly guarantee 
to the Cherokees [or other tribe] all their lands 
not hereby ceded,' &c. &c., were held to contra- 
vene the rights of the States, and to be therefore 
null and void. This doctrine was enforced by 
Judge White in his reports and speeches with 
great logical acuteness, and in spite of a conflict- 



JUDGE WHITE. 51 

ing decision of the Supreme Court, it became, 
through the assent of Congress and the acquies- 
cence of the country, practically the law of the 
land. Judge White's support of the Administra- 
tion through this crisis was most earnest and 
efficient. Through the protracted and violent 
bank controversy, down to the full consummation 
of the original state bank deposite scheme, Mr. 
White continued a powerful, though not conspic- 
uous, or vehement, supporter of the Administra- 
tion. 

In 1833, the storm having subsided, and the 
selection of a new president beginning now to 
attract attention, the Tennessee delegation in 
Congress, with the possible exception of his col- 
league, Mr. Grundy, united in recommending 
Judge White to the people as a candidate to suc- 
ceed General Jackson : Messrs. Polk and Cave 
Johnson afterwards dissented, but not when the 
nomination was made. The legislature of Ala- 
bama — strongly Jackson — concurred in the recom- 
mendation by a large majority. But the ' Demo- 
cratic National Convention,' which assembled at 
Baltimore in May, 1836, nominated Mr. Van Bu- 
ren as the candidate of the party ; the Opposition 
in most of the States united upon General Harri- 
son ; and the defeat of Judge White, should he 
continue a candidate, became a matter of obvious 
certainty. His personal friends refused, however, 
to permit his withdrawal from the canvass, and 



62 JUDGE WHITE. 

he was respectably supported in the southcm 
States generally, receiving the votes of Tennessee 
and Georgia, and failing to obtain those of North 
Carolina by a little over two thousand, and of 
Mississippi and Louisiana, some two or three 
hundreds each. During the canvass, he was for 
a third tin^e elected a senator of the United States 
from Tennessee ; and at this, as at both preced- 
ing elections, the vote was unanimously cast in 
his favor. 

Judixe White continued in the Senate until the 
session of 1830-10, pursuing a moderate, indepen- 
dent course, but opposing the expunging resolution, 
the Sub-Treasury, and other measures to which 
his convictions were hostile. Although his locks 
were whitened by the frosts of age, and his health 
enfeebled, yet his mind remained as active and 
vigorous as ever, his influence in the public coun- 
cils was undiminished, and his zeal in the dis- 
charge of his public duties unabated. 

But a revolution in politics approached, which 
was destined to be felt even by him. In 1839, 
James K. Polk, one of the ablest men and most 
powerful speakers in the south-west, took the field 
as the Administration (Van Buren) candidate for 
Governor ; and, after a canvass of unprecedented 
vehemence, in which he proved himself an over- 
match, both in speaking talent and in personal ad- 
dress and popularity, for his opponent. Governor 
Cannon, he was elected by some twenty-five hun- 



JUDGE WHITE. 53 

dred majority, with a Legislature of kindred poli- 
tics. One of the earliest, as well as most impor- 
tant acts of that Legislature, was the passage of a 
series of resolutions, instructing the senators from 
that State, (Messrs. White and Foster,) to support 
the Sub-Treasury, the Expunging process, and sus- 
tain the measures generally of the Administration. 
Upon the receipt of these resolutions. Judge 
White read to the Senate a paper setting forth the 
reasons which must constrain him to decline a 
compliance with their commands. This is a doc- 
ument of great ability, and produced a powerful 
impression upon the Senate and the nation. Im- 
mediately upon the conclusion of its reading, 
Judge White (with his colleague) resigned the 
seat which he had now held with signal ability 
and honor for some sixteen successive years, and 
sat out in feeble health on his return to Tennessee. 
He incidentally remarked to a friend, just before 
starting, that he did not expect to live to see 
Washington again. His apprehension proved too 
well founded. The fatigue and inclemency of a 
journey in mid-winter from Washington to Ten- 
nessee, are thought to have sensibly impaired his 
failing health : from the time of his arrival at 
Knoxville, he sank gradually ; and on the 10th of 
April, 1840, he breathed his last, in the 68th year 
of his age. 

Such is a meagre and hasty outline of the life 
and pubHc services of Hugh Lawson White^ 
5* 



54 JUDGE WHITE. 

Abler men have graced the councils of the nation ; 
purer and truer, it is believed, never. A tasteful 
and touching tribute to his memory was paid by 
the delegates from Tennessee to the Whig National 
Convention at Baltimore in May succeeding his 
decease ; when, amid the throng of gay banners 
and proud devices which waved over the mighty 
host as it passed on in procession to its appointed 
place of meeting, the banner of Tennessee appear- 
ed shrouded in crape and borne on in silence 
amid the hushed acclamations of surrounding 
thousands — a mute but eloquent memorial of the 
man whom his State had so justly honored and so 
deeply loved. 



55 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 



BY S. DEWITT BLOODGOOD. 



A GREAT part of mankind never become acquaint- 
ed with the sources from which they derive much 
of their enjoyment. Even the most intelligent 
are often at a loss to trace to the fountain-head, 
the streams at which they have drunk with the 
greatest eagerness. In the literary world, doubt 
and darkness rest upon many of the most popular 
productions, clouds obscure the origin of some of 
its most cherished works ; and when these are 
removed by the spirit of research, or the partiality 
of friendship, — when unassuming merit is thus 
rescued from oblivion, and genius is preserved 
from undeserved indifference, our gratitude is 
justly due to the remembrancer, however much 
his attempt may fall beneath the dignity of his 

subject. 

How precious then is Biography when such is 
its motive,— how pious the care of that friendship 
which gives us the true lineaments, and the fa- 
miliar garb, of those who have passed rapidly 
over the stage of life, great even in the momen- 
tary exhibition of their exalted worth ! The very 
greatest of our race owe much of their reputa* 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 56 

tion to this devoted friendship, and it is in the 
mirror thus held up to us, that we grow fond of 
virtue, and honor the talent which otherwise had 
not been reflected to us down the vista of time. 
It is with this feeling of regard for tiie memory 
and brilliant qualities of him whose name heads 
this article, that we attempt a sketch of the 
character and life of a most noble-minded and in- 
tellectual person, cut off in the dawn of manhood, 
after a brief career, which gave the highest hopes 
to his friends and country. 

Mr. Van Schaick was a native of the city of 
Albany, in which his fuiiily had long been distin- 
guished. His father was a wealthy and eminent 
merchant, and his grandfather was the celebrated 
Col. Van Schaick, a soldier of two wars, distin- 
guished by his personal bravery and good con- 
duct at Ticonderoga, where Lord Howe was 
killed, and in the action with Dieskau, at the bat- 
tle of Monmouth, and the expedition against the 
Onondagas. 

After due preparation he became a member of 
Hamilton College, in this State, which on the 
death of his father he left, with the esteem of the 
faculty and the personal attachment of his class- 
mates. He studied law in the oflice of Harmanus 
Bleecker, Esq., our present Charge at the Hague, 
with the intention of commencing practice in his 
native city. The profession of law, however, 
having no charms for him, he determined, on at- 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 57 

taining his majority, to visit Europe, and he sailed 
for England in the year 1826, with a fund of 
knowledge, and a classical and refined taste, 
which fitted him to enjoy and appreciate the ad- 
vantages of foreign travel. Governor De Witt 
Clinton took particular interest in his tour, and 
furnished him with introductions to the literati of 
the Old World. 

His letters written home to his friends during 
his absence, replete with sound observation and 
originality of thought, were highly valued by his 
correspondents. 

The profession of the law continuing unsuited 
to his tastes, which were of a literary cast, he 
amused himself by revising his studies, adding to 
his stores of knowledge, and assuming the edito- 
rial charge of the Albany Daily Advertiser. In 
this occupation, his elegant style of composition, 
the clearness of his conceptions, the force of his 
arguments, and the brilliancy of his wit, con- 
ferred new interest upon the columns of that 
periodical. 

Pleased with his new pursuit, he became a pro- 
prietor of the establishment, and devoted his 
whole energies to the public service. It was in 
the course of this occupation, he received many 
honors from the political friends with whom he 
was connected, among them a nomination to the 
Senate for the district in which he lived, on which 
occasion he received a large and unexpected vote, 



58 JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 

Were it not foreign to the purpose of this sketch, 
an interesting account of the various places of 
honor and trust, which at different times were 
conferred upon him, might be given the reader, 
and a long series of testimonials from leading 
journals of our own and other countries, honora- 
ble to his reputation in the highest degree. 

The most distinf^uishinG: traits in his character 
were a fervent eloquence, and high poetic talent. 

Had he been compelled by circumstances to 
have depended on either of these for his mainte- 
nance, the public would have learned long ere 
this, to have properly estimated his superior abili- 
ty. In addressing an audience, his voice was 
clear and distinct, his illustrations were classical 
and appropriate, his language was forcible and 
elegant. The last public speech which he ever 
made, was at Sand Lake, in Rensselaer county, 
to a numerous audience, and, according to the 
testimony of those who were present, it was a 
specimen of extraordinary ability. 

While his prose compositions had attracted the 
notice of foreign critics, his poetry, generally the 
fruit of leisure only, at once became the subject 
of general admiration, and had a wide circulation 
through the country. To give our readers an 
idea of his style of thought, we extract from the 
Biography of American Poets the following lines, 
of which it is needless to say, there are few 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 59 

things finer in the whole range of American lite- 
rature : — 

JOSHUA COMMANDING THE SUN AND MOON TO STAND STILL. 

The day rose clear on Gibeon. Her high towers 
Flash'd the red sun-beams gloriously back, 
And the wind-driven banners, and the steel 
Of her ten thousand spears caught dazzlingly 
The sun, and on the fortresses of rock 
Play'd a soft glow, that as a mockery seem'd 
To the stern men who girded by its light. 
Beth-Horon in the distance slept, and breath 
Was pleasant in the vale of Ajalon, 
Where armed heels trod carelessly the sweet 
Wild spices, and the trees of gum were shook 
By the rude armor on their branches hung. 
Suddenly in the camp without the walls 
Rose a deep murmur, and the men of war 
Gather'd around their Kings, and "Joshua ! 
From Gilgal, Joshua!" was whisper'd low, 
As with a secret fear, and then, at once. 
With the abruptness of a dream, he stood 
Upon the rock before them. Calmly then 
Raised he his helm, and with his temples bare 
And hands uplifted to the sky, he pray'd : — 
*' God of this people, hear ! and let the sun 
Stand upon Gibeon, still ; and let the moon 
Rest in the vale of Ajalon !" He ceased — 
And lo! the moon sits motionless, and earth 
Stands on her axis indolent. The sun 
Pours the unmoving column of his rays 
In undiminish'd heat ; the hours stand still ; 
The shade hath stopp'd upon the dial's face ; 



60 JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 

The clouds and vapors that at night are wont 

To gather and enshroud the lower earth, 

Are struggling with strange rays, breaking them up. 

Scattering the misty phalanx like a wand. 

Glancing o'er mountain tops, and shining down 

In broken masses on the astonish'd plains. 

The fever'd cattle group in wondering herds; 

The weary birds go to their leafy nests, 

But find no darkness there, and wander forth 

On feeble, fluttering wing, to find a rest ; 

The parch'd, baked earth, undamp'd by usual dews 

Has gaped and crack'd, and heat, dry, mid-day heat, 

Comes like a drunkard's breath ujwn the heart. 

On witli thy armies, Joshua! Tlie Lord 

God of Sabaoth is the avenger now ! 

His voice is in the thunder, and his wrath 

Poureth the beams of the retarded sun. 

With the keen strength of arrows, on their sight. 

The unwearied sun rides in the zenitli sky ; 

Nature, obedient to her Maker's voice, 

Stops in full course all her mysterious wheels. 

On ! till avenging swords have drunk the blood 

Of all Jehovah's enemies, and till 

Thy banners in returning triumpli wave ; ■ 

Then yonder orb shall set 'mid golden clouds, ^ 

And, while a dewy rain falls soft on earth. 

Show in the heavens the glorious bow of God, 

Shining the rainbow banner of the skies. 

We select from an early copy of the Boston 
Token, the following address to the beautiful 
daughter of Governor Cluiton, now, alas! no 
more : — 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 61 

LINES TO A DAUGHTER OF THE LATE GOVERNOR CLINTON. 
WRITTEN IN MDCCCXXIX. 

And thou, fair flower of hope ! 
Like a sweet violet, delicate and frail, 
Hast reared thy tender stem beneath an oak, 
Whose noble limbs overshadowed thee. The damp 
Cold dews of the unhealthy world fell not 
On thee ; the gaudy sunshine of its pomp 
Came tempered to thine eye in milder beams. 
The train of life's inevitable ills 
Fell like the April rain upon the flowers. 
But thou wert shielded — no rude pelting storms 
Came down unbroken by thy sheltering tree. 

Fallen is the oak, 
The monarch of a forest sleeps. Around, 
The withered ivy and the broken branch 
Are silent evidence of greatness past, 
And his sweet, cherished violet has drunk 
The bitter dews until its cup was full. 
And now strange trees wave o'er it, and the shade 
Of weeping willows and down-swaying boughs 
Stretch toward it with melancholy sorrow- 
All sympathizing with the drooping flower. 
And years shall pass ere living trees forget 
That stately oak, and what a fame he shed 
O'er all the forest, and how each was proud 
That he could call himself a kindred thing. 

Long may the beauty of that violet 
Grow in the soil of hearts ; till, delicate, 
Yet ripened into summer loveliness, 
A thousand branches shall contending cast 
Their friendly shadows in protection there ! 
6 



62 JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK* 

As a specimen of his later style, we add an 
address to a female friend on her birth-day, and 
we think we hazard little in claiming for it 
the very first rank among similar productions : 

TO , ON HER BIRTII-DAT, NOVEMBER 12. 

"A beauty that bewilders like a spell 
Reigns in thine eyes' clear hazel, and thy brow 
So pure in vcin'd transparency, doth tell 
How spiritually beautiful art thou." 

Another mile-stone on life's journey, lady ! 
And still thy varied path lies pleasantly, 
Changing its scenes, as thou dost onward pass ; 
Now, in the " cool sequcster'd vale," where flowers 
Of joy and cheerfulness are sj)ringing up, 
Around, thou lingerest in thy shaded bower. 
Serene retreat, wliere sweet aflbctions dwell 
And thy heart's chosen wealth is garner'd up, 
Ingots and gems — a sister's depth of love. 
Parent's fond watchfulness, and brother's pride, 
And instant sympathy with thy lightest wish. 

Anon thy queenly gracefulness goes forth 

Where daz/.ling lamps, and beauty's sparkling eye. 

And the light-hearted viol, and tlie dance. 

And wine-cup's witching bubbles, and the liush'd 

But passionate whisper, show fair Woman's empire ; 

Where cling around thy footsteps, votaries 

To gaze upon that nature-tinted cheek, 

The tremulous lustre of that diamond eye. 

The raven masses of tliat silken hair — 

To teach the ear that voice's sweetest tone. 

To hang upon that smile which speaks so rare. 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 63 

Till pulses throb with a revealing swell, 
And every thought is steep'd in thee alone. 

The autumn birds have sung their sweetest chime, 
The green wood echos answer not their voice, 
The golden grain wav'd in the fragrant air, 
And fruits and flowers their mingled odor shed ^ 
Upon the gale, till drear November's breath 
AVithering their glories, left them desolate. 
But the rich tone of eloquence thy voice 
Gives forth, is music, — and the rose thy cheek 
Still holds in changeless lustre, and the flowers 
Give out their perfume in thine own boudoir, 
Where the bleak winter winds can visit not, 
But life's a day of happiness and joy. 

On in thy sun-lit path. 
No cloud to cross it with disturbing shadows, 
No storm to shake thy heart's sereneness, 
No gloom to dim the twinkling of thy star ! 

Did our limits permit, we could furnish specimens 
of an entirely different character, and equally ex- 
cellent. 

Mr. Van Schaick's health, which subsequent 
to his return from Europe had become established, 
on one or two occasions slightly yielded to colds 
caught in returning home from Washington, 
where for several years he had spent his winters. 
In the fall of 1838, he caught a severe cold, which 
at last compelled him to confine himself to his 
room. After exciting the utmost anxiety on the 
part of his numerous friends, his disorder took an 
unfavorable turn, and he breathed his last on the 



64 JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 

3d of January, 1839, in the 36th year of his age. 
During his last ilhiess he was unusually brilliant, 
his conversation was interesting and instructive, 
and his recollection of his favorite authors never 
more accurate. Perceiving his danger, he com- 
forted his nearest relatives with the assurance of 
his undying affection, spoke calmly of his ap- 
proaching dissolution, and gave up his sjiirit with- 
out a struggle or a groan. No death for many 
years produced such a sensation as this, in the 
city of Albany. The whole town were affected 
at his loss, — the military association which he long 
had commanded, insisted upon paying him the 
last honors due his mihtary rank, and his zeal in 
their behalf — and a funeral procession, such as had 
never been seen but once in that place, and then 
on the death of Governor Clinton, marked the 
universal regret which attended his decease. 

The press, of which he had been the ornament, 
spoke from one end of the Union to the other 
their higli sense of his talents and virtues, and 
even political opponents did not hesitate to twine 
their cypress wreaths around his urn. 

Mr. Van Schaick in person was tall and well 
proportioned, his manners were graceful and win- 
ning, his conversation elegant and instructive, his 
wit playful and original. In the immediate circle 
of his friends he was most tenderlv loved, and 
there his loss was felt with a poignancy which 



JOHN BLEECKER VAN SCHAICK. 65 

the writer of this inadequate notice will not at- 
tempt to describe. 

Had Mr. Van Schaick lived, he would have 
reaped, ere long, the full meed of honor to which 
his great talents and acquirements had already 
entitled him. His intimate friends, on reading this 
sketch of his career, will unite in the opinion, 
that what we have thus briefly said, falls far short 
of his claims to be remembered, and far below 
the standard by which they estimated their 
generous and noble-minded companion. 

It is sincerely hoped, that his numerous pro- 
ductions in prose and poetry will one day be col- 
lected and given to the public, aiKi should that 
time ever arrive, we hazard nothing in saying, 
that few names, in the American world of letters, 
will assume a more elevated rank than his. 



6* 



GO 



JARYIS, THE PAINTER. 

BY WILLLA.M L. STONE. 

John Wesley Jarvis was born in South-Sliiekls- 
on-the-Tyne, (England,) in the year 1780. He 
was a nephew of the great Christian reformer 
and founder of the Methodist Episcopal church, 
with whom (on the emigration of his own father 
to America) he resided during several years of 
his infancy. His father settled in rhiladcl])hia, 
and at the age of five years tlie little son was re- 
moved from the care of his pious uncle, and 
brought to the United States. — At ten, having 
evinced a taste for the fine arts, by looking at 
pictures, and trying to daub some figures himself, 
at the suggestion of Dr. Rush, the father of young 
Jarvis was induced to apprentice him to an engra- 
ver, whose name was Savage — a publisher of 
prints. But he knew nothing of the art of en- 
graving, to which he pretended, and the boy was 
already his master in painting. 

Being unable either to draw or engrave. Sav- 
age employed an Englishman named Edwin to 
do both, in the name of his employer. He then 
removed to New York, taking Jarvis with him. 
From Edwin, Jarvis learned both to draw and 



JARVIS, THE PAINTER. 67 

engrave ; and after his separation from his master, 
Jarvis continued the business for him until he 
himself became of age — serving his principal 
faithfully, in-doors, and playing many pranks and 
tricks fantastic without. Becoming of age, he 
began to engrave for himself. Soon afterward, 
his old instructor, Edwin, fell in with and invited 
him to accompany him to the painting-room of 
Mr. Martin — a portrait painter, who was overrun 
with business. On looking at his pictures Edwin 
remarked that Martin was the first portrait paint- 
er in the United States. " If that be true," said 
Jarvis, " I will be the first to-morrow, for I can 
paint better pictures than these now." — This re- 
solution he carried immediately into effect, and 
portrait painting became his profession for life. 
One of his earliest portraits was that of Hogg, 
the comedian, who then kepi a porter-house in 
Nassau street. Jarvis was wont to say that he 
was assisted in " face-making" by two men named 
Gallagher and Buddington. He himself then 
only claimed to be the best painter, because all 
the others in the country "were worse than 
hadr 

Jarvis afterward, in connexion with an associ- 
ate named Wood, became a miniature painter, 
under the instruction of Malbone. While en- 
gaged in this branch of the art, he invented a 
process of drawing profiles upon glass. The out- 
line being marked, the other side of the glass was 



68 JARVIS, THE PAINTER. 

painted black, or gilded with gold leaf. The 
work was rapidly executed, and while these trifles 
were popular, with the aid of a single assistant, at 
one dollar per day, Jarvis and Wood were en- 
abled to divide at times one hundred dollars at 
night. The gold leaf profiles were in great de- 
mand ; Jarvis was always full of humor, and 
Wood was an excellent musician, so that their 
rooms in Park Row were attractive places of 
resort. 

The habits of Jarvis were irregular, and he 
married mysteriously and imprudently. Owing 
to his first indiscreet marriage, and probably to 
other irregularities, it has been intimated that he 
did not obtain access to the best society, especial- 
ly in female circles. But he afterward married, 
without mystery, " a delicate and lady-like wo- 
man." After his separation from Wood, he had 
a painting-room in Broadway, nearly opposite 
the City Hotel, where the late Mr. Dunlap says 
he used to paint profile portraits on Bristol-boards, 
at five dollars each. They were very well ex- 
ecuted. He also at the same time painted in oil, 
or upon ivory, if required. But notwithstanding 
his labors in the humble departments of the art, 
and his loose and convivial habits, he was a stu- 
dent in every thing appertaining to his art, and 
requisite to its highest attainments. He studied 
anatomy with Dr. John Augustine Smith ; and 
when Dr. John W. Francis returned from Europe 



JAEVIS, THE PAINTER. 69 

in 1815, bringing with him a splendid edition of 
Gall and Spurzheim, Jarvis studied the work 
several months, and, according to Mr. Dunlap, he 
was the first painter in America who applied 
phrenological science to the principles of portrait 
painting. 

It was no advantage to the principles, or the 
morals of Jarvis, that he became the companion 
and fellow-lodger with Thomas Paine, who, as 
Dunlap says, " wrote * Common Sense,' and play- 
ed the fool." There is a bust of Paine belonging 
to the New York Historical Society, which was 
modelled in clay by Jarvis. At one time, about 
the year 1807, the business of Sully, then a resi- 
dent of New York, was so small, that he hired 
himself to Jarvis as an assistant. Jarvis himself 
said it was a great shame that a man of Sully's 
genius and merit should find it necessary to labor 
as an assistant to him. Before this period, how- 
ever, Jarvis had become eminent in his profes- 
sion, and was even then wont to pass his winters 
in the southern cities, and his summers only at 
the north. As a humorist, he was one of the 
most lively and entertaining of men. His songs 
and his stories made him ever welcome on con- 
vivial occasions, and he was every where as pop- 
ular as a table companion, as he was distinguish- 
ed in his art. It was on his return from New 
Orleans, during the last war with England, that 
he was employed by the Corporation upon the 



70 JARVIS, THE PAINTER. 

first two, and, as we believe, the only historical 
works which he ever attempted. These, (Perry 
and Decatur,) yet adorn the Governor's apart- 
ment in the City Hall, and are pictures of great 
merit. They show that, with habits of greater 
regularity, and attention to historical painting, he 
might have attained to exalted eminence in that 
highest department in the divine art. lie had 
previously painted full lengths at the south. 

It was soon after the war that the accomplished 
artist, Henry Inman, became a pupil of Jar vis, 
and performed one or more tours with him to 
New Orleans. Indeed, Mr. Inman accompanied 
him on his first visit to that city, and a most pro- 
fitable visit it was. Jarvis went there pcnnyless. 
In six months he realized six thousand dollars, — 
with three thousand of which he returned to New 
York. With the assistance of his young pupil, 
wiio was as full of genius as himself, he was en- 
abled to finish six portraits per week — giving a 
daily sitting of an hour each to his subjects. In 
1819, Mr. Inman separated from Jarvis, whose 
habits were more and more dissolute, so that in 
fact he gave but little instruction to his pupil. 
Inman then set about teaching himself. The ear- 
liest of his paintings that we ever saw, w^as a 
cabinet picture, in water colors, of Jarvis, taken 
m a slouched and dilapidated straw hat. It was 
a capital hit, and contributed much in giving In- 



JARVIS, THE PAINTER. 71 

man a start in the brilliant career he has subse- 
quently run. 

From 1820 to 1834, Jarvis resided alternately 
at the north and the south, as already mentioned. 
He painted but little at the north, however, and 
his habits became worse and worse — telling 
stories, singing songs, living high, and drinking 
deep. He was eccentric in his manners, and also 
in his dress, almost to comicality. He was pro- 
digal of money, when he had it, but in all his ha- 
bits, business or otherwise, entirely without sys- 
tem or economy. Every thing was in disorder 
at home. He would invite friends to dine with 
him — gentlemen of distinction from the south — 
provide the choicest viands to be found in the 
market, and the oldest and richest wines — while 
his table was set with broken forks and tumblers, 
and old and damaged crockery. But it was Jar- 
vis — and all was very well. 

In 1833, while at New Orleans, his career of 
merriment and dissipation was brought to a close 
by a stroke of paralysis. He returned to the 
north, and from that year until the hour of his de- 
cease, on the 16th of January, 1840, dragged 
out a wretched existence — helpless and imbecile, 
both in body and mind. Of religious faith or 
hope, we presume he had none. Indeed, his prin- 
ciples, or rather opinions, if he ever thought with 
sufficient stedfastness to form any, were in unison, 



72 



JARVIS, THE PAIVTEE. 



we believe, with those of Paine. Once, it is said, 
when the late Bishop Moore was sitting to him, 
the good prelate attempted to direct his attention 
to sacred things ; but the artist, with facetious 
irreverence, cut short the conversation, by saying 
carelessly, and yet as if merely giving a direction 
for the attention of the sitter — " Turn your head 
the other way — and shut your mouth." The ef- 
fort was not repeated. And so died John Wes- 
ley Jarvis — the humorist and the wit — the jovial 

companion — the distinguished artist — and but 

we forbear to finish the sentence. 



73 



CHARLES HAMMOND. 

BY ALEXANDER MANN. 

There exists in the bosom of the community a 
class of gifted men, who are content to forego the 
glare of ephemeral notoriety, in order that they 
may build up their own characters in the light of 
duty, and give an abiding impulse for good to the 
course of society. This class is not numerous or 
obtrusive, but the individuals who compose it 
exercise a powerful and invaluable, though often 
unacknowledged influence, over the minds of 
others. The busy world takes little note of them, 
for they pass noiselessly through it, and are not 
careful to purchase its applause by paying court 
to its ever-changing whims. But they make their 
mark deeply and permanently on the character of 
the age in which they live. The world's gaze 
and the world's honors are usually accorded to 
secondary minds — your bustling public charac- 
ters — who, in their eagerness to rear a towering 
reputation for themselves, are commonly little 
scrupulous how far they borrow materials from 
others, and whose truest honor is that they are 
permitted to convey to society the golden fruits of 
minds infinitely superior to themselves. 

7 



74 CHARLES HAMMOND. 

On the 3d of April, 1840, died at Cincinnati, 
Ohio, Charles Hammond ; — and those who knew 
and appreciated him, felt that one of those supe- 
rior minds of whom we have been speaking, liad 
passed from among men, and ascended on high. 
Throughout the whole country, and especially at 
the west, it was felt that a great man had fallen, — 
that a giant mind had fwiished its earthly labors, 
and gone to its eternal home. 

Mr. Hammond was born in the State of Mary- 
land, in September, 1779. In his early youth, he 
removed, with his father, who was a respectable 
farmer, to western Virginia. The circumstances 
of his parents did not permit them to give liim a 
bettor education than the common schools of 
the neighborhood atlbrdcd. But outward obsta- 
cles avail little in deterrinn: suc'h a mind as 
that of Charles Hammond from the pursuit of 
knowledge, usefulness, and fame. He mastered 
the elements of science, and acquired a know- 
ledge of the lani?uafl^es throuirh the force of an 
unconquerable determinntion, and mainly by his 
own unassisted exertions. 

He studied his profession under the direction of 
that eminent man, Philip Doddridge, one of the 
greatest men and greatest lawyers of western 
Virginia. His legal training was, as might be ex- 
pected under such tuition, systematic and tho- 
rough. It is still well remembered, that on his 
examination for admission to the bar, he acquitted 



CHARLES HAMMOND. 75 

himself in a manner so honorable as to draw forth 
the admiration of the numerous legal gentlemen 
who were present. Nor did his studies end with 
his noviciate. Through life he devoted a great 
share of the energies of a mind which had few 
equals, to a thorough investigation of the princi- 
ples of his profession — a profession which, more 
than any other, demands the unremitted study of 
a whole life. • 

Mr. Hammond left Virginia, and settled in Bel- 
mont county, Ohio, a few years after that now 
powerful State was admitted into the Union. 
He became now permanently a citizen of Ohio. 
His attention was chiefly devoted to his profes- 
sion, but a portion of it was given to agricultural 
pursuits. He purchased a farm, and its cultiva- 
tion afforded him the means of relaxation from 
the severe duties of his profession. 

At this time, and indeed at all times of his life, 
the law was the engrossing object of his pursuit. 
He studied and practised it as a science, and more 
for the pleasure he reaped from a contemplation 
of its principles, than from a desire of its pecu- 
niary rewards. He regarded it also as the high 
road to honor and usefulness. 

It was not for talents and acquirements like 
those of Charles Hammond, to hnger in the back 
ground. Immediately he took his place at the 
head of the profession. Side by side with the 
most eminent lawyers of Ohio, he maintained his 



76 chahles hammond. 

ground through a long Hfe, with distinguished 
credit and honor. It may be truly said, that the 
collisions which take place between the members 
of the bar, are of all encounters the most trying 
to the intellect of the competitors ; and it is no 
slight honor, that a man has been able through a 
series of years to preserve his spear unbroken, and 
his plume untarnished, in those unsparing intel- 
lectual battles of which the bar i^ the constant 
theatre. But when a combatant not only main- 
tains his position in the ranks, but is found at the 
close of the fight, standing among the foremost, 
it cannot be questioned that his courage has been 
unflinching, and his preparation complete. 

Mr. Hammond was distinguished for the system- 
atic and scientific character of his attainments. 
His learning was something more than a mere 
aggregation of facts. His acquirements were 
made in the light of principles, and composed 
not, as is often the case, a vast and shapeless 
mass of materials, but a stately and tasteful struc- 
ture, up-rearing its fair proportions from an im- 
movable foundation. 

He was particularly distinguished as a consti- 
tutional lawyer. In the noble department of the 
profession, which requires the discussion of con- 
stitutional principles, he found a field of exertion 
congenial to his taste and his mental habits. His 
argument in the case of the Bank of the United 
States, against the State Auditor of Ohio, was 



CHARLES HAMMOND. 77 

universally esteemed a masterly performance. 
Indeed, if no other proof of his legal abilities 
were in existence, he would still be entitled to no 
ordinary distinction. 

It were hardly possible that a mind like his 
should not engage with deep interest in politics. 
At an early age, and before he removed to Ohio, 
he attracted the attention of the political men of 
the west, by his defence of Governor St. Clair. 
In the latter period of the territorial government, 
that accomplished functionary was attacked with 
great acrimony by the advocates of a State or- 
ganization. Mr. Hammond defended him in a 
series of articles pubhshed in the Sciota Gazette, 
with such vigor and success as to drive the as- 
sailants from the field. The talent displayed in 
these articles attracted general attention, and 
when public inquiry had discovered their author, 
he received no stinted share of applause. 

Mr. Hammond possessed a fine taste for clas- 
sical literature, and occasionally exhibited proofs 
of a poetic turn of mind. But the law is a mis- 
tress who does not easily tolerate a rival ; and he 
chose to repress his love of the lighter kinds of 
literature, lest it might impair his devotion to his 
profession, and weaken his habit of logical inves 
ligation. 

Mr. Hammond's taste for political discussion, 
and his known ability as a political writer, drew 
him into the editorial field. About the year 1825 



78 CHARLES HAMMOND. 

he removed to Cincinnati, where, in addition to the 
labors of his profession, he assumed the editor- 
ship of the Cincinnati Gazette. With what mas- 
terly ability he acquitted himself in this field of 
exertion, is well known. Up to the time of his 
death, it was the leading journal of its party in 
the western States. The vigor, energy, and lo- 
gical distinctness with which he wrote, made him 
a most formidable antagonist, while the unques- 
tioned integrity of his character gave a degree 
of weight to his opinions, not often possessed by 
those of partisan editors. Mistaken .he some- 
times, though seldom, was, but his honesty was 
ever above suspicion. No opponent entered 
the lists with him without finding a fair and hon- 
orable, as well as most able antagonist, and few 
w^ithout finding cause to regret the encounter. 
He never sacrificed his conscientious convictions 
of right, to any motive whatever. He pos€cssed 
the honesty and independence, unhappily too 
rare among editors, to maintain the truth boldly, 
when such a course seemed to be unfavorable to 
the interests of his own party. 

In the formation of his opinions, as well as in 
their expression, he was singularly honest and 
fearless. Neither friend nor foe was permitted to 
influence him. In his private character he was 
benevolent, upright, and sincere. Beloved by his 
friends, and respected by all, he passed a long 
life of singular usefulness, and unremitting labor. 



CHARLES HAMMOND. 79 

with unspotted reputation and unsullied honor. 
And when the summons of death came, he laid 
aside his armor, and retired from the conflict 

" like a warrior takins; his rest." 



For two or three years before his death, his 
health failed, and he withdrew entirely from the 
bar. His editorial duties were discharged to the 
last. 

On the third of April, 1840, as has already been 
stated, the noble spirit of Charks Hammond took 
its departure from the earth. The consciousness 
that he had discharged his duty, while in the 
world, enabled him to leave it without regret or 
fear ; and he was sustained while passing through 
the shadow of death, by an unfaltering trust in 
the Father of his Spirit. 



80 



REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 



BY HENRY J. RAYMOND. 



Since the permanent establishment of a republi- 
can government upon the western hemisphere, 
the United States has been the place of refuge for 
the oppressed of Qvery nation. She receives to 
her bosom, and protects by her laws, not merely 
the ignorant and degraded vassals of European 
despotism, but also the sons of high genius, the 
possessors of great and lofty intellects stored with 
tiie treasures of the past, and lifting on high their 
lifrhts for the guidance of the future. Wherever 
the rights of man are unrecognizod in the practi- 
cal operation of the political machinery, wherever 
the sacred claims of humanity arc disregarded 
and her high prerogatives trodden down by the 
iron heel of despotic misrule, thither may she turn 
her eyes and glory in having rescued from tyran- 
nous oppression some brother — too noble to re- 
main a silent victim of crushing ambition, and too 
weak to hurl it from its ill-gotten throne. Her's 
is the proud triumph of having furnished the 
freest, most inviting asylum on the earth for those 
whose lot it is to dwell in the habitations of cruel- 
ty and blood ; and of having reared aloft the most 



REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 81 

formidable obstacle to the designs of those whose 
energies are devoted to the up-building of power 
upon the ruins of liberty and human happiness. 

Glory enough is it for any nation thus to feel 
that she lifts man up from the dust, and enthrones 
him in his native seat of dignity and honor. 

The despotism of Austria, and the iron rule of 
the Holy Alliance, have forced many worthy 
citizens of Germany and Switzerland to leave 
their native land and plant their homes upon our 
hospitable shores : but among them all, we can 
call to mind no name, brighter or more nobly 
identified with the progress of hberty, than that of 
Charles Follen. 

And here we feel impelled to offer an apology 
for our apparent presumption in attempting to 
sketch his life. It is a task which should have 
been consigned to abler and more experienced 
hands ; and but for an unlucky disappointment, by 
such would it have been achieved. We are well 
aware that the affectionate interest attached to 
their adopted son by the American public, might 
reasonably warrant the expectation that his por- 
trait would be drawn by the hand of some highly 
favored sharer of his personal friendship — by 
some intimate acquaintance with his public and 
private virtues. But it has fallen to our lot to be the 
humble recorder of his worth ; and, in discharge 
ing our duty, we shall make free use of the mate- 



82 REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 

rials, meagre and unsatisfactory at best, which 
chance has thrown in our way. 

The few leading events of his life, with which 
we are acquainted, may be briefly told. A native 
of Germany, he was born at Romrod, in the 
Grand Duchy of Darmstadt, in the year 179G, and 
received his education at the university of Glessen, 
where he took his degree of J. U. D. or Doctor 
of Laws, in 1817. Of his family, an elder brother, 
Augustus Follen, eminent as a German poet, is 
now a professor in the university of Zurich, in 
Switzerland ; and another brother, also distin- 
guished for his literary abilities, is now a citizen 
of the State of Missouri. 

At an early age he was distinguished for the 
liberality of his political opinions, and for the free-* 
dom with which he gave them utterance : so much 
so, indeed, that upon the assassination of Kotzebue 
by Sand, in 1819, he was suspected of having at 
least been privy to the intentions of that wayward 
and misguided youth; and although fully and 
clearly innocent, he was nevertheless compelled 
by the jealousy of Prussia and the other Allied 
Powers, to leave Germany. 

He went first to Switzerland, and accepted an 
appointment, which he immediately received, as 
professor of the civil law in the university of 
Basle ; and he continued in this situation, the duties 
of which were discharged with fidelity and uni- 
versal acceptance, until 1824. Here he exercised 



REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 83 

the same dauntless freedom in disseminating his 
opinions which had subjected him to the persecu- 
tion of the constituted authorities in his native 
land : and even here he was not beyond the reach 
of the Austrian government, whose relentless des- 
potism holds in almost complete subjection her 
more republican but far less powerful neighbors. 
His animadversions upon the subject of civil 
government were highly displeasing to Austria, 
and a formal demand was made by her upon the 
authorities of Basle, that he should be surrendered 
to her tribunals to answer the charge then brought 
against him. He protested his innocence of any 
crime known to the laws of the Canton in which 
he lived, and under which he claimed the right 
to be tried. This right was admitted : and the 
insolent demand of the Austrian despot for a long 
time resisted. But the Swiss government at 
length became alarmed at the threatening remon- 
strances of her powerful neighbor, and soon com- 
menced, on her own authority, a prosecution 
which speedily compelled this hunted apostle of 
Liberty again to fly for safety and for life. 

He first went to Paris, where for a short period 
he was honored with the friendship of Lafayette, 
who was then on the eve of visiting the United 
States, and who kindly offered to introduce Dr. 
Follen to the acquaintance and sympathies of the 
American people. This proposal, however, he 
modestly declined, and accordingly remained in 



84 REV. CHARLES FOLLEX, J. U. D. 

France until the autumn of 1824, when he came 
to this country. Immediately upon his arrival he 
was appointed German instructor, and, in 1830, 
was made professor of the German language and 
literature in Harvard University. In this capa- 
city he did much to awaken and cherish the love 
for the literature of his native land, which has 
since become so nearly universal tln'oughout this 
country and England. Until within a few years 
the German language had been but little cultivat- 
ed by the inheritors of the wealth of English ge- 
nius, and its rich and almost exhaustless stores of 
poetry and philosophy have remained unexplored 
by the rest of the world. But the efforts of Cole- 
ridge, De Quincey and Carlyle, by their excellent 
translations, and still more splendid criticisms, of 
the masterpieces of German art, aroused the at- 
tention of British students to this newly discover- 
ed intellectual realm ; and the impulse thus given 
in England to the study of German literature soon 
crossed the ocean, and in the United States is 
growing in power, and in some particular sections 
is fast becominc^ a mania. To the feclinfT: thus 
awakened. Dr. Follen contributed not a little, both 
by his intimate acquaintance with the critical and 
philosophical writings of his countrymen and by 
his more humble, but not less serviceable labors, 
in preparing several elementary works for the 
study of the German language. 

While at Cambridge Dr. Follen had given 



REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 85 

much attention to the study of Divinity, for the 
active duties of which profession his eminent pu- 
rity of Hfe and extremely kind and benignant dis- 
position rendered him peculiarly appropriate. 
He embraced the Unitarian faith, and the most 
prominent features of his Christian belief and 
character have been admirably set forth by his 
intimate and distinguished friend, Dr. Channing. 
He tells us that " his theory stood in direct hos- 
tility to Atheism, which confounds man with na- 
ture : to Pantheism and Mysticism, which con- > 
found man with God : and to all the systems of 
philosophy and religion, which ascribe to circum- 
stances or to God an irresistible influence on the 
mind. * * * He had given himself much to 
the philosophical study of human nature, and there 
were two principles of the soul on which he seized 
with singular force. One of these was * the sense 
of the Infinite,' — that principle of our nature 
which always aspires after something higher than 
it has gained, which conceives of the Perfect, and 
can find no rest but in pressing forward to Per- 
fection : the other was * the Free Will of Man/ 
which was to him the grand explanation of the 
mysteries of our being, and which gave to the 
human soul inexpressible interest and dignity in 
his sight. To him life was a state in which i 
free being is to determine himself, amid sore trials 
and temptations, to the Right and the Holy, and 
to advance toward Perfection." 

8 



86 REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 

At one time he was pastor of the Charles street 
church in Boston, and subsequently, for a short 
period, had charge of a congregation in New 
York. In 1839, he was invited to take the gui- 
dance of a religious society in Lexington, Massa. 
chusetts, where he accordingly preached for a 
considerable period. In the autumn of the same 
year he visited New York, where he delivered a 
series of lectures on German literature, which 
proved exceedingly interesting and acceptable to 
his numerous audiences. After concluding his en- 
gagements in New York, he embarked on board 
the Lexington, and perished in its terrible confla- 
gration on the night of the 13th of January, 1840. 
The intelligence of his death, in connexion with 
the awful catastrophe which was its cause, fell 
upon the ears of his many friends and literary as- 
sociates with an agonizing, heart-rending power ; 
and called forth a repetition of the same deep and 
solemn bewailing expressed by Milton in his ma- 
jestic lament for his beloved Lycidas : — 

*' It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 
Built in the eclipse and rigged with curses dark. 
That sank so low that sacred head of thine." 

We have heard it said that the 14th of January, 
the day of his death, was the appointed day for 
his induction at Lexington into the sacred office 
whose functions he had assumed, and that a large 
congregation of his parishioners remained assem- 



REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 67 

bled for some hours, momently expecting his arri- 
val. But it was the will of his Father that he should 
enter upon His service in a higher and a holier 
sphere ; and the next day beheld, in the same 
place, a still more numerous assemblage gathered 
together to bewail their sudden and unlooked-for 
bereavement. 

Dr. Pollen's character is described by those 
who enjoyed his acquaintance, as having been 
that of a great, holy and heroic man. Its most 
prominent characteristic was his ardent, undying 
zeal for the welfare of every human being. A 
deep sense of justice, a calm and abiding reve- 
rence for the rights of humanity, a clear convic- 
tion of man's inherent dignity, and an abiding 
recognition of his claims and his destiny, informed 
his life and controlled his actions. His earliest 
impulses were those of a warm-hearted philan- 
thropist, gifted with a lofty mind, whose soul was 
haunted by visions of human greatness and per- 
fectibihty : and, like Schiller, he had ' learned to 
reverence the dreams of his youth.' Subjected 
as he had been, in his early manhood, to the cruel 
persecution of despotic governments, he embraced, 
as might be expected, the most liberal principles 
of democracy. His personal experience of the 
evils of arbitary power had been bitter ; and 
therefore, perhaps, he had the fullest, most un- 
doubting faith in the character of our republican 



88 REV. CHARLES FOLLEN, J. U. D. 

institutions. Even the scepticism and radical 
democracy of the age, gave him no alarm for the 
permanency of our government, being fully confi- 
dent that they were " merely the strivings after a 
deeper foundation for the highest faith." His 
adherence to moral principle, in despite of the 
dictates of mere expediency, formed a marked 
trait of his character ; and this, together with his 
all-embracing benevolence, led him to take a deep 
and active interest in the efforts of those who 
contend for the immediate abolition of slavery in 
all its forms. 

But besides these rarer and nobler qualities, 
for which he was so highly distinguished, the 
gentler and more endearing virtues of private life 
were conspicuous in his career. Uniformly of a 
kind and benevolent disposition — his manners 
marked with'a winning courtesy and an active sym- 
pathy with the welflire of all, he was universally 
esteemed by his acquaintances and beloved by his 
intimate friends. 

His life exemplified^his own brief but pregnant 
declaration, that he " regarded the true character- 
istics of moral heroism to be an honest conviction 
of duty, however correct, or however mistaken : 
an exalted effort of the will; and the spirit of 
self-sacrifice." Well may we mourn the loss of 
such a man to our country and the world, and 
most happily may we apply to him Wordsworth's 



REV. CHARLES POLLEN, J. U. D. 89 

character of a Happy Warrior, — and say with 
subdued and hopeful grief, 

*' Peace to the just man's memory, — let it grow 

Greener with years, and blossom through the flight 

Of ages ; let the mimic canvass show 

His calm benevolent features ; let the light 

Stream on his deeds of love, that shunned the sight 

Of all but Heaven, and, in the book of fame, 

The glorious record of his virtues write, 

And hold it up to men, and bid them claim 

A palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame.'* 



8* 



90 



GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE 



BY JACOB B. MOORE. 



The charge of ingratitude, which history has so 
often laid at the door of rcpubUcs, cannot be justly 
apphed to the American people. On the con- 
trary, there has been no instance, in any country, 
where a higher estimate has been placed upon 
heroic actions, and personal devotion to the pub- 
lic interests, than here. As the fathers of the 
Revolution, one by one, have passed off the stage 
of action, their memories have been held in re- 
membrance, and the sense of obligation has not 
been lessened by the advent of new generations 
of men. When the people have been in doubt or 
in peril, or when tliey have had high honors to 
bestow, we have seen with how much fervor and 
confidence they have sought out the gallant and 
hardy chieftains who had perilled their lives in 
their country's cause, and with what boundless 
confidence the people have intrusted their desti- 
nies to such keeping. It is to this spirit, widely 
diffused among the people, that those great politi- 
cal revolutions may be traced which placed a 
Jackson in the presidential chair, and which have 
just called from his retirement, in a green old age, 
one of his illustrious compeers to occupy the same 
exalted station. 



GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE. 91 

The leaders in our revolutionary struggle have 
all descended to the grave. No general or field 
officer remains, and but few of subordinate rank, 
of all that noble host of heroic spirits who won 
for us all that we enjoy which is worth possessing. 
It is no unfavorable omen for the country — now 
that no more of the gallant band of '76 remain — 
that the people naturally turn to the brave and 
tried hearts who breasted the storm of battle in 
the second war with England. 

One of the last of the revolutionary stock of pa- 
triots whom the people elevated to high public 
stations, was General Pierce, of New Hampshire, 
who fought himself into an heroic reputation in 
the war of independence ; retired to the wilder- 
ness in New Hampshire, and there, "turning his 
sword into a ploughshare," wrought himself out a 
farm and an estate ; and, after having filled vari- 
ous civil and military stations, closed his public 
career as Governor of the State. 

Benjamin Pierce was born at Chelmsford, Mas- 
sachusetts, 25th December, 1757. His father, 
Benjamin Pierce, died in 1763, leaving a family of 
ten children, of whom Benjamin was the seventh.* 

* The ancestors of the family of Pierce, of Chelmsford, 
were from Woburn, to which place they came from Water- 
town ; one of their number, Daniel Pierc^ being a mem- 
ber of the Council in 1689, and one of the committee of 
public safety, on the deposition of Andros. The name is 
numerous in New England. 



92 GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE, 

From the time of his fluhcr's death he resided in 
the family of Robert Pierce, a farmer, of the same 
town, for more than ten years, engaged in agri- 
cuhural pursuits during most of that period. Here 
he acquired those sound practical ideas of hus- 
bandry and thrift Avhich distinguished him in 
after-life. 

On the memorable 19th of April, 1775, the 
news rapidly spread to the surrounding settle- 
ments that he blood of Americans had been 
spilled at L( . ington. Pierce was at work in the 
field, when ; horseman rode up with the intelli- 
gence, hastily delivered his message, and passed 
onwards to alarm the country. He immediately 
left his plough, went to the house for his uncle's 
gun and ccjuipments, and started off, on foot, with 
others of his comrades, for Lexington. Arriving 
there, they found that the British had fallen back 
upon Boston, and they continued their march to 
Cambridge. Here young Pierce, then aged eigh- 
teen, enlisted as a private in the company com- 
manded by John Ford, and in the regiment of 
Col. John Brooks, afterwards Governor of Massa- 
chusetts. He was in the midst of the battle on 
Bunkers Hill, and from that period to the closing 
scenes of the war, he was in every action where 
liis regiment was engaged, and on all occasions 
was noticed and connnended by his superior offi- 
cers for his gallantry and good conduct. From 
the grade of a common soldier, he passed through 



GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE. 93 

all the subordinate grades to the command of a 
company, which he held at the final disbanding of 
the troops in 1784. He left the army, in the en- , 
joyment of the fullest confidence of his superior 
officers, and with a reputation for bravery and 
military talents, which was confirmed in his sub- 
sequent life. 

Captain Pierce returned to his native village in 
1784, like most of his brother officers, with the 
remains of their nine years' pay in continental 
money ; which, had it been worth its face, and 
what the faith of the government was pledged to 
make it, would have sufficed to purchase each of 
them a farm. But such was the depreciation, that 
he found himself nearly destitute of funds, and 
under the necessity of going into the wilderness, 
where lands were cheap, to commence the culti- 
vation of a farm. 

In the following year, having been employed 
as an agent to explore the Stoddard grant in New 
Hampshire, while returning from his expedition, 
he passed on horseback down the northwesterly 
branch of the Contoocook, a fine stream, which, 
after a devious course of many miles, unites with 
the river Merrimack. On the "Branch," as it 
was called. Captain Pierce found a solitary log- 
cabin, where, after partaking of the hospitality of 
the occupant, he bargained with the owner for a 
lot of land, consisting of about fifty acres, with the 



94 GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE. 

intention of returning in the following spring to 
commence his clearhig. 

Early in 178G, he proceeded to his newly-pur- 
chased territory. With his axe he felled the trees 
of the forest, and with his gun procured food for 
sustenance, which he cooked himself, as best he 
might. He slept upon his military blanket, and 
as soundly, he was wont to say in his old age, 
and as comfortably, as in after-hfe, when he had 
acquired enough of worldly estate, and was in 
what the world termed " comfortable circum- 
stances." Having made a clearing, and erected 
a rude habitation, he married in 1788 with Miss 
Andrews, who died in 1792, leaving one daugh- 
ter, who married General John McNiel. General 
Pierce afterwards married a second wife, the 
daughter of Benjamin Kendrick, of Amherst, and 
by her had five sons and two daughters. The 
death of this lady preceded that of the General 
only a few months. 

In the autumn of 178G, the militia of the county 
of Hillsborough were first organized and formed 
into a brigade. President Sullivan sought out the 
soldier, then far in the woods, having persuaded a 
gentleman of his council to accept the office of 
bricradier general, on the condition that he was 
to be furnished with a brigade major, qualified to 
take the preliminary steps for the perfect organi- 
zation and discipline of the several regiments. 

General Pierce, besides more than eight years' 



GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE. 95 

service in the regular army, served in Massachu- 
setts and ISiew Hampshire twenty-one years in 
the mihtia, leaving it in the capacity of brigadier 
general. For many years he commanded that 
regiment which furnished a Miller, a McNcel, 
and several other highly valued officers and sol- 
diers, who have distinguished themselves in the 
pubKc service. It was often remarked of General 
Pierce, that he was the beau ideal of an officer of 
the Revolution, who had the manners of a gentle- 
man, with enough for true discipline of that pride 
which distinguished the superior from the sub- 
altern. 

General Pierce was attached to the militia from 
principle, believing it to be the only sure arm of 
national defence. He counted himself among 
those who distrust standing armies as a safe re- 
liance, on the ground that they might be used 
here, as they have in other countries, as instru- 
ments in the hands of executive power to over- 
awe and destroy the liberties of the people. 

In 1789, he was first elected a representative 
to the General Court of New Hampshire, and 
was returned for thirteen years in succession. As 
a legislator he frequently took an active, some- 
times a leading part, in the discussions. 

In March, 1803, he was first elected a counsel- 
lor, and continued in the council from 1803 to 
1809 — the five last years as the counsellor of 
Governor Langdon, by whom he was appointed 



96 GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE. 

Sheriff of Hillsborough, for five years. In the 
office of Sheriff he continued till 1813; when, in 
time of high political excitement, he was ad- 
dressed out of office by a majority of both branch- 
es of the legislature, for adhering to the old 
court instead of the new, which had been estab- 
lished by the same legislature. The constitution 
of New Hampshire, making the tenure of judicial 
office during good behavior, until the age of 
seventy years, except on removal, for cause, by 
address of both houses, — the legislature in 1813, 
desiring to get rid of the existing court, re- 
modeled the judiciary system, rendering vacant 
all the judicial offices under the old law. The 
new appointments, of course, were of new men ; 
but two of the judges of the old court, disputing 
the unconstitutionality of the new act, held their 
courts as usual, and the sheriffs of two of the 
counties, taking the same view of the case, re- 
fused to recognise the new court, who thus had 
no officers to execute their commands. The 
legislature, in this state of affairs, soon assembled, 
and the two refractory Sheriffs were removed by 
address of the two houses. Sheriff Pierce was 
one of the number. 

These proceedings and violent changes in the 
judiciary system were in the end unpopular, and 
mainly contributed to a revolution in the politics 
of the State, which soon after followed. At the 
very next election after the removal of Sheriff 



GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE, 97 

Pierce by address, the people elected him to the 
council, in which office he remained until 1818, 
when he was again appointed to the office of 
Sheriff. While in the discharge of the duties of 
this office, General Pierce became aware of the 
oppressions practised against poor debtors under 
the imprisonment laws of New Hampshire ; and 
frequently spoke in the most decided terms of 
reprobation of the barbarous statute then existing 
in that State. So far as his personal example 
went, — and he enjoined the same upon all his 
under-officers, — the administration of the law 
was rendered as favorable as possible to the in- 
carcerated debtor. One instance is recollected, 
which may serve to illustrate the generous feel- 
ings of Sheriff Pierce. An old man, of the name 
of Brewer, a revolutionary soldier, had became 
indebted to a petty shop-keeper, and being unable 
to pay the debt, had been arrested by his credit- 
or, and thrust into close jail. Here, among a 
motley crew of thieves and felons, he had actually 
been confined for years. He had no earthly 
means of paying the debt, and could take the 
oath of poverty ; but he had not the means of 
paying his board bills in prison, and the fees of 
discharge ! Fruitless attempts had been made to 
soften the obdurate heart of the remorseless cre- 
ditor, and subscriptions had been started to raise 
the sum necessary for the prisoner's release with- 
out success — and the old soldier remained in his 
9 



98 GOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE^ 

gloomy cell. General Pierce, on becoming ap- 
prised of the facts in the case, went to the prison, 
and opened the doors of the cell, bidding the 
gray-headed old man, " Go breathe the free air /" 
The debt he paid out of his own pocket. 

In 1827, General Pierce was elected Governor 
of the State. In the following year he was left 
out of office, on account of his opposition to the 
re-election of J. Q. Adams. In 1829, the hero of 
the Hermitage having succeeded, the State of 
New Hampshire, (which has never been long in 
opposition to any federal administration,) again 
elected General Pierce to the office of Governor. 

At the commencement of the late war with 
Great Britain, General Pierce entered with great 
zeal into its support ; and used often to say, that 
were he a few years younger, he would once 
more hasten to the battle-field. Two of his sons, 
by his advice, entered the public service, one of 
whom died in the western country, and the other. 
Col. B. K. Pierce, has earned for himself a dis- 
tinguished reputation. The Hon. Franklin Pierce, 
member of the United States' Senate, from New 
Hampshire, is a son of General Pierce. 

Governor Pierce had experienced in their full 
force the inconveniences of an imperfect educa- 
tion. Although his naturally strong mind in a 
measure overcame the difficulties which he often 
encountered in the discharge of his various duties 
— he used often to speak with great earnestness of 



fiOVERNOR BENJAMIN PIERCE. 99 

the importance of early and particular attention 
to education. When he entered the army, his 
acquirements were very limited, having scarcely 
ever enjoyed even the advantages of a common 
school. By practice and perseverance, he ac- 
quired a competent knowledge of business, and 
passed through all his various offices with credit 
to himself, and the public satisfaction. 

In his private character. General Pierce was 
hospitable and hberal. There was no public or 
private charity in the neighborhood, to which he 
did not willingly contribute — often, indeed, taking 
the lead in such matters. His house was open to 
all strangers, and until the evening of life, he 
kept up the good old custom of gratuitous enter- 
tainment to the passing travellers who chose to 
become his guest. He was of a cheerful dispo- 
sition, always disposed to look upon the bright 
side of things, and delighting to contribute to the 
happiness of those around him, whether young or 
old. Vivacious youth found in him a congenial 
spirit, and sober age saw nothing with which to 
reproach him. His friends were numerous, and 
his memory is cherished, not because he held 
high public station, and obtained a commanding 
influence among the people, but on account of 
his plain republican manners, his integrity of 
character, his love of justice and private hospi- 
tality. His death occurred on the 1st of April, 
1839, when he was in the 82d year of his age. 



100 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 

BY ABSALOM PETERS, D. D. 

The subject of this memoir, whose decease was 
announced a few months since, was born in Heb- 
ron, Connecticut, Marcli 25th, 1754. His father 
Colonel John Peters, who lived to the age of 
84 years, and his grandfather, of the same name, 
resided at Hebron, and were respected as men of 
integrity and worth. His great-grandfather was 
William Peters of Andover, Massachusetts, son 
of Andrew Peters of Ipswich,* Massachusetts, 
son of William Peters of Boston ; who was one 
of three brothers, — William, Thomas and Hugh — ■ 
sons of William Peters of Fovvy, in Cornwall, 
England, who were puritans and emigrated to 
New England in 1034. Thomas was a minister 
of the gospel, and is said to have resided at Say- 
brook, Connecticut ; but, as far as we know, left 
no descendants bearing his name. Hugh was 

* See History of Hu gli Peters, A. M.^ by Rev. Samuel Pe- 
ters, LL. D.y New York, 1807. The writer of this memoir 
has a manuscript furnished by Col. John Peters of Hebron 
to his nephew, Dr. John S. Peters, late Governor of Con- 
necticut, by which he has corrected the genealogy given in 
the "History of Hugh Peters," by inserting the name of 
Andrew Peters of Ipswich. 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 101 

also a clergyman, and was settled at Salem, Mas- 
sachusetts, as pastor of the first church in that 
place, now under the pastoral care of the Rev. C. 
W. Upham. His name is famous in history, and 
few men have been more misrepresented and 
traduced. After repeated solicitations from the 
general court of Massachusetts, he reluctantly 
accepted the appointment of agent or ambassador 
of the plantations, to visit the government of 
Great Britain, where, having espoused the cause 
of the commonwealth, he fell under the wrath of 
Charles II., and was beheaded in 1660.* He left 
no children, excepting one daughter ; and the 
name of his family, in this country, was preserved 
only by the descendants of his brother William, 
already noticed. 

From William Peters of Boston, the subject of 
our narrative was of the sixth generation. His 
early life was spent amid the oppressions and 
agitations which preceded the war of the Revo- 
lution. It was perhaps the most eventful period 
of our country's history, " a time," as we have 
often heard him remark, " which tried men's 
souls." His father was a Whig, and young Absa- 
lom early imbibed the principles and the spirit of 

* See History of Hugh Peters, before referred to, and 
Upham's " Second Century Lecture of the First Church," 
Salem, 1829, and his " Character of Hugh PeterSj^^ in the 
Christian Register of the same year. 

9* 



102 fJENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 

resistance to the oppressive exactions of the go- 
vernment of Great Britain. But his eldest brother, 
who was educated for the Episcopal church, and 
who afterwards left his profession to take up arms 
in the British service, was a zealous Tory. His 
uncle, who was a clergyman, was also an active 
and conspicuous opposer of the llevolution, and 
rendered himself so odious to the Whigs, that he 
was obliged to abscond and take refuge in the 
mother country. Absalom firmly resisted the in- 
fluence and pcrsuaisons of these po'wcrful relatives, 
and adhered to the cause of the llevolution. This 
subjected him to the severest trials ; and we have 
often heard him describe, with tears, the conflict 
of feeling with which, at the age of 19 and 20, 
he united with the W'iiigs in iiillicting summary 
punishment upon his uncle for his secret co-opera- 
tion with the enemies of his countrv. In his 
youth he was also in the battle of East Chester, 
New York. 

At the age of 21, Mr. Peters became a mem- 
ber of Dartmouth College. Here too he engaged 
with ardor in the scenes of that day, so intimate- 
ly connected with the achievement of our coun- 
try's mdependence. For a considerable portion 
of his college life, he was captain of a volunteer 
company, composed of the students, who were 
armed and equipped to repel the attacks of the 
Indians, and to render such aid as miijht be re- 
quired by the dangers of the times. In this ca- 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 103 

pacity he was several times called out at the 
head of his youthful band, but never came into 
actual conflict with the enemy. His education 
was thus military, as well as classical ; and 
during the course of his studies, he lost nothing 
of that zeal in the cause of his country which 
had been inspired by the events of his boyhood. 
He was a member of the tenth class of graduates 
of Dartmouth College, who completed their course 
in 1780, under its venerable founder and first 
president, the Rev. Dr. Eleazar Wheelock. The 
class consisted of ten members, viz. Amos Chase, 
Edward Longfellow, Noah Miles, William Patten 
(D. D.), Absalom Peters, George Pierce, Peter 
Pohquonnopeet, (an Indian chief of the St. Regis 
tribe,) John Rolphe, Joseph Steward, and Daniel 
Story. Those whose names are in italics were 
clergymen. Mr. Peters also commenced his 
studies with a view to the gospel ministry ; but 
on account of the failure of his health, a few 
years after he graduated, he was induced to re- 
linquish the study of his chosen profession and 
turn his attention to agriculture, and such mili- 
tary and civil employments as were demanded 
by the exigencies of the times, in a new country, 
where there were few so well quahfied by educa- 
tion and natural talent, for offices of pubUc trust 
and usefulness. He was also engaged at differ- 
ent times in classical instruction, and was espe- 
cially distinguished as a teacher of music, in 



104 GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 

which he composed several pieces of considerable 
reputation. 

In October, 1780, a few months after he gradu- 
atedjagreat alarm was occasioned by tiie destruc- 
tion of Uoyalton, Vermont, by the Indians, and a 
report that 4,000 Canadian troops had crossed lake 
Champlain, with the intention of proceeding to 
Connecticut river, undrr the command of John 
Peters, the elder brother of Absalom, — already 
referred to, — who had now become a colonel in 
the British service, and was at the head of the 
" Queen's Rangers," so called, in Canada ; a large 
regiment composed of Canadian Indians and re- 
fugees from the Colonics. Absalom Peters was 
active and urgent in raising a force to resist this 
incursion of his brother's troops ; and marched 
at the head of six companies, irom the northern 
part of New Hampshire to Newbury, Vermont, 
the place designated t«»r tlieir rendezvous. On 
his arrival at this post, he was aj)pointecl Aid to 
Major-General Bailey, which office he sustained 
till the close of the war. Being well advised of 
the position of his brother in Canada, lie selected 
a confidential agent, who proceeded under his 
special instructions to the army of Col. Peters, 
who had already reached the hither side of the 
lake, and was planning his march across Vermont 
to the Connecticut. The agent conducted his 
plan with so much adroitness and skill, that he 
soon secured the confidence of Col. Peters, and 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 105 

was selected by him as his confidential guide to 
conduct his army through the wilderness of the 
Green Mountains, with which he professed a per- 
fect acquaintance. The result was that he in- 
tentionally led them in circles, crossing each other, 
for several days, by which they lost much time, 
exhausted their provisions, and, at length, found 
themselves so bewildered and exposed, that the 
courage of Col. Peters failed him, and, with the 
concurrence of a portion only of his officers, he 
decided on a precipitate retreat to Canada, by 
which his troops were divided and himself dis- 
graced, by an almost entire failure of the object 
of his expedition. This ingenious device effec- 
tually arrested, and, in the end, prevented all at- 
tempts of the Canadians and Tories to destroy 
the frontier settlements of Vermont and New 
Hampshire. His admirable success in thus de- 
feating the plans of his brother, and ruining his 
influence, for the time being, even with the Cana- 
dians themselves, placed Mr. Peters high in the 
confidence of the Whigs, and gave him an early 
and conspicuous influence, which he was ever 
ready to exert for the good of his country. 

In 1781, he was chosen to represent the New 
Hampshire Grants east of the Connecticut river, 
as a member of the convention which met at 
Bennington ; and afterwards, during six sessions, 
he was a member of the General Assembly of 
Vermont until "the Grants" which he represented 



106 GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 

were annexed to the State of New Hampshire by 
an act of Congress. During this period also he 
sustained the offices of justice of the peace and 
high sheriff. In the mean time he was engaged 
in subduincT a farm in the new town of Went- 
worth, where he resided. After the cession of 
" the Grants" to New Hampshire, he was several 
times a member of the legislature of that State, 
and was honored with numerous civil offices, 
which he discharged with great integrity and 
ability. He also co-operated efficiently with Gov. 
Sullivan and others in organizing the militia sys- 
tem of that State ; and having served as an offi- 
cer twenty-four years, he resigned, with the rank 
of brigadier-general. 

At the age of 29, General Peters was married 
to Mary Rogers, daughter of Nathaniel Rogers, 
Esq., a gentleman of liberal education, and a de- 
scendant, of the fifth generation, from the martyr 
John Rogers of England, who was burned at 
Smithfield in 1555. In this connexion he lived 
thirty-six years, until October, 1819, when Mrs. 
Peters, having reared to maturity, and with great 
discretion and kindness, a family of nine children, 
was removed by death, aged 63 years. Her son, 
Major George P. Peters of the army, who was a 
distinguished officer in the last war with Eng- 
land, — having served in the battle of Tippecanoe, 
under General Harrison, and in several battles on 
the northern frontiers, as also under General Jack- 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 107 

son during the Seminole war, and having been 
twice wounded,— died in East Florida in 1819, in 
his 31st year. His younger brother, James W., 
a merchant in Alabama, and a member of the 
Senate of that State, died two years after, at 
about the same age. The surviving children of 
Gen. Peters having become settled in life, in 1821 
he removed to Lebanon, Connecticut, where he was 
married to the worthy widow of the late Rev. John 
Gurley, and was soon after appointed post-mas- 
ter, which office he sustained until a few months 
before his death. In the autumn of 1839, warn- 
ed by increasing infirmities, he was induced to re- 
move to the residence of his oldest son, JohnR. Pe- 
ters, of New York, where he received the solicitous 
attentions of his children resident in that city, until 
March 29, 1840, when he departed this life, at the 
age of 86 years and 4 days. His remains were re- 
moved, in compliance with his direction, to his 
native place in Hebron, Connecticut, where they 
were interred amid the scenes of his childhood, in 
a grave purchased by himself, by the side of his 
father's, in the burying-ground of the Episcopal 
church, of which he was a member. The oldest 
men were his pall-bearers, and their children of 
the second and third generations walked in the 
procession, as they conveyed this relic of another 
age to its resting-place in the grave. "Our 
fathers ! where are they?" 

General Peters was a man of strongly-marked 



108 GEJ^ERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 

and original traits of character. His mind was 
active and investigating — his memory compre- 
hensive and retentive. He had great indepen- 
dence, self-reliance, decision of character, and 
personal courage, combined with an uncommon 
flow of mirthfuiucss and philosophical wit. He 
possessed the power, in an extraordinary degree, 
of impressing his thoughts and opinions upon the 
minds of others, and was fitted for command in 
times of peril and alarm ; w^iile, in his ordinary 
intercourse, no man was ever more free from 
hauteur and airs of consequence. His social ten- 
dencies were strong and perpetual. He treated 
all men as his e(|uals, and was a most amusing, as 
well as instructive companion. Thus while he 
contributed to the cheerful entertainment of every 
circle in which he moved, few men have enjoyed 
life as much as he. His habits were favorable to 
the possession of strong physical health, and his 
views and anticipations were ever enlivened with 
hope. And these traits of character were by no 
means diminished with his declining years. The 
summer previous to his death, when he was in 
his 8Gth year, he took a journey alone to New 
Hampshire, to visit his numerous friends in that 
State, during which he was absent three months, 
and travelled five hundred miles. He went, as he 
said in a letter now in our possession, " to mourn 
with the living the loss of the dead." On his re- 
turn, he remarked that he was not conscious of 



ii 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 109 

ever having enjoyed three months of his life more 
highly! This cheerful disposition he cherished 
to the very last. But a few hours before his 
death, he remarked that the patriarch Jacob, 
when he was a hundred and thirty years old, 
said, " Few and evil have the days of the years 
of my life been ;" but I am much younger than 
Jacob, and yet I can say truly, "i% days have 
been many and full of prosperity ! Glory to God, 
that I have had so many blessings !" 

The sayings and anecdotes of General Peters 
would fill volumes ; and if they could be gathered 
up and presented in the language in which he was 
accustomed to relate them, they would throw 
much light upon the history of our country, durino- 
the last three quarters of a century. But this 
would be impossible. They were tales that were 
told — not written — and are but imperfectly re- 
membered by his survivors. We will add only 
one, which is at once instructive and illustrative 
of the cheerful views with which he was accus- 
tomed to regard the progress of human improve- 
ment. Most old men look upon all changes in 
the customs and usages of society with disappro- 
bation, as indications of increasing depravity and 
wickedness. Not so with the subject of our nar- 
rative. "General," said an aged friend of his, 

don't you think the world is growing much more 
wicked than it was when we were boys?" "No," 
said the General, "it was always a wicked world. 
10 



110 GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. 

Cain killed his brother ; and there are very few 
examples of so great wickedness as that in our 
times, especially in civilized countries. No, neigh- 
bor T., I think the world is growing better. — 
There is much more light and knowledge among 
men than there was a century ago, and more re- 
ligion in the world than there once was. And I 
think there has been some improvement in our 
own country since we were young. I remember 
that sixty-one years ago I was at the house of my 

friend the Rev. Mr. P., in L , Massachusetts, 

and the Rev. Mr. K., who had lately been dismissed 
from his charge in a neighboring town, called to sec 
him. Mr. P. incpiired of Mr. K., who was now 
preaching to his former people ? * No one,' said 
Mr. K., * the people arc too wicked tu have a 
minister! Tiiey lately had a town meeting to 
choose tithing-mcn and adopt measures to secure 
the proper observance of the Sabbath laws ; but 
they chose the most notoriously wicked man in 

the town. The chairman. Lieutenant E , on 

counting the votes and finding the result to be so 
discreditable, refused to declare the vote, but rose 
and said, * It must be a mistake ! It cannot be, 
that this town has lost all sense of character, — all 
self-respect ! It cannot be ! And, to settle the 
question, I will divide the house by the middle 
aisle. You that are for religion and good order, 
take the right-hand pews ; and you that are for 
the devil and confusion, go to the left.' And would 



GENERAL ABSALOM PETERS. Ill 

you believe it? — more than two-thirds of them 
went to the left !' 

"Now this," said General P., "would be a hard 
case in these times, bad as the times are ; yet this 
occurred sixty-one years ago in old Massachu- 
setts ! No, neighbor T. ; the times are growing 
better, and our children have far better privi- 
leges than ever we had. So it will continue to 
be, on the whole, till the whole world will be 
converted." 



112 



ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 

BY ALEXANDER MANN. 

No State in the Union has been more fruitful io 
great men than South Carolina. Like the Roman 
mother, she points to her " jewels" with exulting 
pride. Small in territory and limited in her re- 
sources, she may not compete with all her sister 
States in wealth and power ; but her treasure is 
the illustrious fame of her sons, and her pride the 
devoted attachment which they always manifest 
to their native State. And it may be truly said, 
that as no son of Carolina ever served her with 
more zeal and ability than llayne, so none ever 
enjoyed in a higher degree her affectionate admi- 
ration and enthusiastic gratitude. 

Robert Y. IIayne was born near Charleston, 
South Carolina, on the 10th of November, 1791. 
He was sprung from the best blood of the Revo- 
lution. The only members of his family who 
were able to bear arms perished in that glorious 
struggle. Confinement in a British prison-ship 
destroyed the one, and the other, the martyred 
Isaac IIayne, poured out his blood on the scaffold 
in defence of the liberties of his country. 

Mr. Hayne was the son of a respectable plant- 



ROBERT y, HAYNE. 113 

er of moderate fortune. He did not receive a 
collegiate education. His studies were begun 
and ended at a grammar-school in Charleston ; 
and at the age of seventeen he entered the office of 
Langdon Cheves as a student at law. It is hard- 
ly necessary to say, that the instructions of this 
distinguished jurist and statesman were of the 
utmost benefit to young Hayne. A more brilliant 
and exciting example could not have been pre- 
sented, or one more likely to fire with ambition a 
generous and aspiring mind. 

Mr. Hayne applied himself to the study of his 
profession with his characteristic energy. But 
before he had attained the age at which he could 
legally be admitted to practice, the war with 
Great Britain, which was then approaching, called 
upon the patriotic to defend their country in the 
field. Mr. Hayne, with the ardor which charac- 
terized him through life, resolved to take up arms. 
He applied for and obtained an examination, and 
admission to the bar, under condition that he 
should not practise till he became of age. Hav- 
ing thus terminated his studies, he immediately 
volunteered his services as a soldier, and early in 
1812 took the field as a lieutenant in the 3d re- 
giment of State troops. His first effort as an 
orator was made while in the service, at Fort 
Moultrie, where he delivered an oration on the 
4th of July, 1812, to his companions in arms. 
The elegance of his style, and the lofty patriotism 
10* 



114 ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 

of his sentiments, gave indication thus early of 
his suhsequent renown. 

Having been honorably discharged from the 
service of the United States, Mr. Hayne imme- 
diately commenced practice in the city of Charles- 
ton. Mr. Chevcs was about this time elected to 
"Congress, and Mr. Hayne had the good fortune 
to succeed in a great degree to his legal business. 
He became immediately successful in his profes- 
sional pursuits, and his practice continued to in- 
crease, and grow more profitable, up to the time 
when he finally retired from the bar. 

Mr. Hayne was elected to the Legislature in 
October, 1814. This was his first appearance 
upon the stage of public life — a stage where he 
was destined to act an illustrious part. He was 
elected over a long list of com])etitors, many of 
whom were men of distinguished ability and 
eminent standing. 

His popularity was in some degree attributable 
to the energetic su})port he had given to the war, 
but no small portion of it was unquestionably 
owing to his talents and eloquence. On the 4th 
of July next preceding his election, he dehvered 
an oration, as the organ of the democratic party, 
w^hich was considered by all who heard it a 
magnificent display of oratory, and which had a 
most important influence upon the rising fortunes 
of its author. 

Mr. Hayne was distinguished in this new sphere 



ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 115 

of action, as well by his sound judgment and good 
statesmanship, as by his eloquence. As chairman 
of the military committee, which he became on 
his first taking his seat in the house, and espe- 
cially as quarter-master-general of the State, to 
which office he was about the same time ap- 
pointed by the Governor, he rendered the most 
important services ; and his zeal for the public in- 
terest led him to act a conspicuous part in the 
general business of legislation. 

After he had been five years a member of the 
House of Representatives, that body testified its 
appreciation of his talents and character, by 
unanimously electing him to preside over its deli- 
berations. Never before was one so young called 
to the chair, and the unanimous election of Mr. 
Hayne was certainly a most distinguished honor. 
As a proof of the acceptance with which he dis- 
charged the duties thus imposed upon him, he was 
elected attorney-general of the State, by the le- 
gislature over which he had presided, at the close 
of the session in which he was called to the chair. 
Soon after. President Monroe offered him the ap- 
pointment of United States' attorney for the 
district of South Carolina, which he declined. 

Mr. Hayne held the office of attorney-gene- 
ral till December, 1822, when, at the age of thirty- 
one, he was elected to the Senate of the United 
States. At the expiration of his first term he was 
re-elected, and continued a member till December, 



116 ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 

1832. It was here that he became known to the 
nation at large. That dignified body allbrded a 
suitable field for the exercise of his genius ; and 
it is not too much to say, that no member ever left 
it with a more brilliant reputation. 

The limits of the present sketch do not per- 
mit a particular notice of Mr. Ilayne's course in 
the Senate. He was strenuously devoted to what 
were regarded as the peculiar interests of the 
South. The tariff', which, soon after he entered 
the Senate, became the leading topic of discus- 
sion, found in him a determined and energetic op- 
ponent. In common with most southern states- 
men, he held that measure to be tyrannical and 
unconstitutional, and in his speech against it in 
18'21, he made a luminous exposition of the views 
of South Carolina in regard to the ruinous ten- 
dencies of the protective system. As chairman 
of the naval committee he rendered the most im- 
portant service to the navy, and much of the 
present efficiency of that arm of the public de- 
fence is owing to his patriotic exertions. 

It was in 1832 that the great debate took place 
in the Senate, in which Mr. Hayne was so illus- 
triously distinguished. A resolution had been in- 
troduced by Mr. Foote of Connecticut, respect- 
ing the surveys of the public lands. The debate 
which arose upon this resolution drew within its 
circle the great question of the right of a State 
to resist a law of Congress, — a question at that 



ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 11*7 

period of absorbing interest, and universally re- 
garded as involving the integrity of the Union. 
Mr. Hayne advocated the well known South 
Carolina doctrine, and he was opposed by Mr. 
Webster. 

It is unnecessary to enlarge on the circunastan- 
ces and character of this debate ; they are famil- 
iarly known to the whole country. No contest 
of equal interest ever occurred in the halls of 
Congress, whether regard be had to the unrivalled 
powers of the parties engaged, the intense excite- 
ment which pervaded the nation, or the unparal- 
leled importance of the subject of debate. 

It is unnecessary here to express an opinion of 
the comparative ability displayed on this memo- 
rable occasion. The friends of the two great 
champions respectively, have always regarded 
their arguments as unanswerable. If it be true, 
that the logic of the " great constitutional lawyer" 
was irresistible, and the famous peroration of his 
closing speech unequalled in the annals of Ameri- 
can oratory, it is no less true that Mr. Hayne's 
reply was characterized by a fiery, impetuous, 
overwhelming eloquence which has never been 
surpassed. 

The latter part of the year 1832, and the be- 
ginning of 1833, gave birth to events not likely 
to be forgotten. A strong feeling of self-interest 
in South Carolina urged on the opposition to the 
protective policy to the verge of revolution. 



118 ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 

The Legislature, in special session, called a con- 
vention, of which xMr. Ilayne was a member, " to 
determine the character" of the tarilf, and " to 
devise means of redress." On the 24th of No- 
vember, that body passed the celebrated ordin- 
ance of Nullification. 

It was now generally apprehended that a fear- 
ful collision was aj^proaching between South 
Carolina and tiie General Government. That 
event, above all others to be deprecated and de- 
plored — a civil war between a State and tlic 
Union — seemed at hand. In this })erilous crisis 
Carolina re-called her favorite son from the coun- 
cils of the nation, to take the helm of state. On 
the 11th of December, having resigned his seat 
in the Senate, he was inaugurated Governor of 
the State. The proclamation of President Jack- 
son, issued on the 10th, reached Charleston a very 
few days after. Governor Ilayne responded, in 
a counter-proclamation, in a tone of impassioned 
defiance, declaring his determination to resist the 
aggressions of tyranny, from whatever quarter 
those aggressions should come, and, if need were, 
to shed his blood in defence of his native State. 
Ilis defiance did not expend itself in words. Ac- 
tive measures were taken to put the State in a 
posture of defence, and a resolution manifested 
to resist to the last extremity. These proceed- 
ings naturally caused alarm for the safety of the 
Union, and induced the patriotic to endeavor to 



ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 119 

devise some mode of conciliation. The com- 
promise which was ultimately effected through 
the exertions of an illustrious statesman, is too 
well known to require any farther allusion. Peace 
spread her benign wings over the Repubhc, and 
the Union was saved. 

Governor Hayne continued to occupy the exe- 
cutive chair until the month of December, 1834. 
In his valedictory message he expressed his anx- 
ious desire to pass the residue of his days in re- 
tirement. But in this wish he was not indulged. 
In the summer of 1836, he was elected president 
of the " Louisville, Cincinnati, and Charleston 
Railroad," a great work intended to connect the 
south and the west, and secure to Charleston a 
participation in the trade of the Mississippi valley. 

Mr. Hayne died at Asheville, North Carolina, 
on the 24th day of September, 1839. He had 
gone to that place to attend a meeting of the 
directors of the railroad, when he was seized 
with a fever which terminated his existence at 
the age of 48. His early and lamented demise 
cast the deepest gloom over his native State, and 
caused an indescribable sensation throughout the 
south. The whole country participated in the 
grief at his loss, and in the regret that a states- 
man of rare and brilliant genius was cut down in 
the noon of his day. 

Mr. Hayne's life, though not protracted, was 
full of activity, distinction, and glory. At the 



120 ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 

bar, in the senate, in the executive chair, he 
acted his part — often one of unparalleled diffi- 
culty — with distinguished honor. Those who dif- 
fered most widely from him in opinion, never 
doubted the purity of his motives, or the integ- 
rity of his character ; and when he fell beneath 
the hand of death, the grief was deep and uni- 
versal. 



121 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 

BY C. W. EVEREST. 

*' All thy fond hopes to disappointment doomed ! 
Thine expectations all cut off — thyself 
Left in thy prime to wither, like the bud, 
The flower-bud rich of promise, by the frost 
Cut off untimely I" * * * * * 

It is not strange that the sentiment should so 
early have prevailed, that those endowed with 
peculiar talents were marked by Heaven for an 
early doom. We would by no means be under- 
stood to assert it as our own belief, or to say that 
there is any just warrant for such a deduction. 
But is it not true, that many, very many, whose 
morning life has given promise of a glorious day, 
have fallen as it were on the very threshold of 
being ? Nay, more : is it not true, when we con- 
sider the relative proportion of their numbers, that 
humanity is oftener called to bend over the untime- 
ly bier of the child of genius, than over him of com- 
mon mo\ald ? We believe experience will justify 
an affirmative response to the question : and no 
more common lamentation of the bard is heard, 
than for those who are early called from the 
scenes of their high hopes to sleep in forget- 
ful slumber. If a cause is sought, doubtless a 

11 



122 RICHARD BACON, JR. 

ready one can be found in the constitutional tem- 
perament of the gifted. It is indeed idle to claim 
that genius, merely of itself, should be doomed of 
Heaven. But the mass of mankind stop not for 
philosophical accuracy. Too often is the " causa 
non pro caustr allcgrd in their investigations. 
And when we consider the number and the cha- 
racter of those who in life's morning put on their 
robes of immortality, we must cease to marvel at 
the sentiment — for indeed our own hearts will 
sometimes respond to it — " Whom the gods love, 
die young !" 

We have chosen the subject of our present 
sketch not so much for a biograpliical memoir, as 
to confer a merited tril)Utc to the memory of a 
well-beloved friend. He was of those who feel 
the stirrings of an ambitious and richly endowed 
spirit within them, but to whom it is not permitted 
to enter engagedly in the ranks of those who 
wage a warfare for renown. lie listened to the 
clarion call of Fame, and he pined in spirit for the 
contest. But a strong hand held him back ; and 
his only record is with 

" Those, the young and brave, who cherislioJ 
Noble longings for the strife ; 
By the road-side fell and perished, 
Weary with the march of life!" 

Richard Bacon, Jr., was born at Northington, 
(a small parish of Farmington,) now Avon, in the 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 123 

State of Connecticut, His family, soon after his 
birth, removed to the town of Simsbury, in the 
same State : and here the subject of our sketch 
passed the chief part of his hfe. He evinced at 
an early age an unusual fondness for study, and 
began to develope a mind of superior ability. 
Circumstances, however, seemed to forbid his at- 
taining a liberal education. After reaping all the 
advantages he could derive from an attendance 
upon the common schools, he was removed to the 
grammar-school at Hartford, one of the oldest, 
and probably the best, of the preparatory schools 
in the State. Here he remained for some time, 
and applied himself assiduously to the usual course 
of a thorough ** English education," as also to the 
study of the Latin language. With his departure 
from this institution, closed the most of his acade- 
mic studies. He had long before imbibed a strong 
taste for reading, and general literary pursuits. 
This he had cultivated to as great an extent as 
his other studies would permit ; and he now gave 
his entire leisure to an attentive perusal of the 
standard English authors, as also to the literature 
of our own country. Poetry was his chief de- 
light. Though the modesty of his genius for a 
long time kept the fact in concealment, circum- 
stances at length declared him to have been a not 
unwelcomed worshipper at the shrine of theMuses. 
We have before remarked that the greater part 
of our author's life was passed in the town of 



124 RICHARD BACON, JR. 

Simsbury. Soon after he closed his academic 
course, and wliile he was anxious to enter upon 
the studies of a profession, he began to sufler from 
an inflammation of the eyes. This entirely de- 
feated his plans. It gave a character to his whole 
after-life, and in some measure, we fear, caused 
his premature death. Rallied in his pursuit of a 
profession, he attempted other occupations, which 
seemed not to clasii with his bodily atlliction, in 
the hope that time w^ould restore the use of his 
eyes again, and yet suft'er him to attain the object 
of his wishes. He remained a twelve-month in 
Hartford, and nearly two years in New York, 
engaged in mercantile pursuits. But his dif- 
ficulties seemed ratlwr to be increased than 
removed thereby ; and disappointed, and sick at 
heart, he returned to the quiet of his paternal 
mansion. Here his literary })ursuits were renew- 
ed with redoubled vigor. When his own failing 
sight could not minister to his desires, his kind 
sisters would engage his leisure by reading to 
him, and assisting to write out and copy the pro- 
ductions of his own fancy. 

It was at this period of his life that we became 
personally acquainted with Bacon. He gave us 
his entire confidence, and a friendship was formed 
which grew stronger to the day of his death. 
We never met with a warmer heart, or a hand 
which pressed a more cordial welcome. We soon 
saw that his affliction was a trial hard indeed to 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 125 

bear. He heard the strife of the great world 
around him, while he was compelled to be an un- 
welcome lingerer from its busy scenes. Still, he 
did not complain. Though it was painfully evi- 
dent that his mind was not fully in unison with 
the quietude of his situation, Hope cheered him 
with her whisperings of brighter days to come. 
Besides, he found many ingredients of happiness 
in his cup. Of a warm and social disposition — 
he was surrounded by a family which he loved : 
a devotee of literature — time and opportunity 
enabled him to indulge in his favorite pursuits, 
though under some discouragements it is true : a 
child of Nature — he could rove at will amid her 
nnost wild, and enchanting scenes. As our ac- 
quaintance ripened to intimacy, we found as much 
to admire in his poetical taste and talents, as we 
had already found to love in his social tempera- 
ment and virtues. His chief fault as a poet — and 
it is a common one with young writers — was a re- 
dundance of fancy. Against this — for he soon be- 
came sensible of it — he was very careful to guard. 
He composed with enthusiasm, and then in cooler 
moments gave himself to the task of severe revi- 
sion. He would write and re-write a piece with 
great care, and even then seemed loth to part 
with it. He published but little. He shrunk in- 
stinctively from notoriety, and when he did pub- 
lish, he gave no clue to the authorship of his ar- 
ticle. We doubt if he ever published two articles 



126 RICHARD BACON, JR. 

over the same signature ; consequently, to the 
great pubhc he was unknown. Beyond the circle 
of his own personal friends. Bacon was not recog- 
nized as a poet. We feel tempted to give in this 
connexion the first article which our author gave 
to the public, that the reader may judge whether 
personal friendship has misjudged his talent: 



THE WINDS. 

Waves of an ocean, viewless, yet sublime ! 

Which finds no strand save starry isles ye lave, 
In your cool waters bathed tlie infant Time^ 

Your cliainless surge shall roll above his grave ! 
For of your birth we ask the sacred page ; 

It lends no answer to our questing tone : 
Chaos' black realms ye deluged in your rage, 

Loosed from the hand outstretched from Heaven's high 
throne ! 

"God said, let there be light !" With sunny glance 

The young waves wooed you as ye passed along ; 
Stretched forth their hand to join you in the dance, 

To joyous music from the starry throng ! 
Oh blessed hours ! Through Eden's blissful grove, 

In gentlest Zephyrs, 'mong the flowers ye flew; 
Stirred Eve's long tresses as she sang of love, 

And brushed her bosom of the pearly dew. 

The Sun has laws : the Ocean's heaving tide 

In dread obedience only dares to roll : 
No power is swayed to bound your restless pride — 

Ye soar on high, fit emblem of the soul. 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 127 

Down charnel depths, where fated stars have gone, 

Hurled from their place in Heaven, ye grope your way ; 

Trample in dust the Pleiad's skeleton, 
And hold wild revel on the rotting clay. 

Kissing the tear-drops from the blushing Spring, 

In gentle dalliance joyous on ye linger. 
Pluming your pinions from the trembling string, 

yielding rich music 'neath the minstrel's finger ! 
Oh I I have thought as on my ear ye crept, 

Soothing with whispered tale the drooping flowers, 
That dreaming Nature murmured, as she slept. 

Some cherished memory of her childhood's hours ! 

Pressing the lip to silence, soft ye tread, 

When Love attendant opes the lattice wide ; 
Bathe the hot temples of the sick man's head, 

And woo sweet slumber to the sufferer's side ! 
Kind Ministers ! ye cool the cheek of Care, 

The old man's brow, the maniac's tortured brain ; 
Ye pass the prison grate, and wan Despair 

Smiles at your touch, forgetful of his chain ! 

How changed ! the scarf of empire on your breast, 
The thunder fettered to your cloudy car. 

Ye rouse to fury Ocean from his rest. 

And hurl the oak with hideous howl afar ! 

Dread Ministers ! For now your work is death ! 
The crash of the proud ship to ruin driven — 

The shriek — the groan — the prayer — the gurgling breath- 
Are in your keeping ; — bear them all to Heaven ! 

We might add other articles equally excellent 
— for we have many at hand — but our limits for- 
bid. We doubt not, in the judgment of all who 



128 RICHARD BACON, JR. 

read our sketch, the above will be deemed the 
fruit of genius of no common order. For such 
we ever deemed Bacon's to be. We confidently 
looked forward to the day when his name would 
hold a proud place among the talented ones of 
our country, and that day a no far distant one. 
Who that then knew him could have thought that 
that voice would so soon be tuneless, and that 
mind so soon have its full dcvclopemcnt in a 
better world. 

During our collegiate days, we were separated 
but a short distance from our friend. Scarcely a 
week went by without bringing him to our 
lodgings, or taking oursclf to his own " happy 
valley." Those winged hours of social converse, 
and those rambles over hill and dale, are and ever 
will be among the greenest spots in the waste of 
memory. But time separated us. Business at 
last called him away on a distant tour; and soon 
after we had left college our face was turned 
southward. While waiting in New York the 
sailing-day of our packet, we were agreeably 
surprised by meeting unexpectedly with our old 
friend again. Wo had thought him many an 
hundred miles away, and the meeting was con- 
sequently the more cheering. After a hurried 
conversation upon topics of mutual interest, he 
abruptly expressed a fear " that he ivas becoming 
deranged f" It seemed a strange assertion, and 
we gave no heed to it. We wonder now that 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 129 

our own fears were not excited : for there cer- 
tainly was much that was unusual in his manner, 
and he had a wild scheme planned for his future 
course, which seemed very unreasonable, and 
from which we endeavored to dissuade him. 
There was a mystery about him. Something 
weighed like lead upon his spirits ; but we thought 
it a morbid mood, which would pass away. We 
urged him to return home, but apparently in vain. 
He seemed bent on his wild enterprise, and bade 
us adieu with the design of engaging in it. Little 
thought we that his melancholy prediction was 
true ! Little thought we that his warm hand 
would soon be cold in death, and his warm heart 
lie still beneath the clods of the valley ! His 
hearty " God bless you !" lingered in our ears, 
and we felt that we were parting with our best 
and truest friend. A few days went by, and we 
were again surprised, by the reception of a letter 
from Bacon, dated at his home, in Simsbury. It 
was brief and hurried, and some part of it was 
entirely unintelligible. We attributed such part, 
however, to a merry mood, rather than to any 
more serious cause. We gathered from it that 
the matter which had weighed so heavily upon 
his spirits when we had last seen him, was satis- 
factorily removed, and all was well with him. We 
wonder now at our blindness. The very assurance 
he gave of the removal of his difficulty, so singu- 
lar were many circumstances connected with it, 



130 RICHARD BACON, JR. 

should have given us alarm. But we were satis- 
fied, and the epistle was laid aside to await the 
leisure of a future day. 

When we reached our place of destination, 
various causes conspired to make us for a time 
neglectful of our distant friend. At length our 
grateful duty was undertaken. It was New 
Year's — and our thouirhts were busv with Bacon. 
lie had not been forgotten, though fur a time ne- 
glected. Ere the holidays had gone, we deter- 
mined to greet him with a hearty remembrance. 
Alas ! we recked not of the trial in store for us ! 
Before those holidavs were ended, and wliile our 
heart was revelling in the past, and memory was 
busy with its sn^nos so rlenr, and with hrm, the 
dearest object of those scenes — we received an 
unwelcome letter from the father of our friend. 
Bacon was no more ! lie whom we loved with 
more than a brother's love, was slumbering un- 
conscious of our sorrow ! Never sank our heart 
as at these sad tidings, and we wept like a broken- 
hearted child ! 

Poor Bacon ! There was too much truth in 
his mournful assertion. He was indeed deranged ! 
It mi'dit be, as he stated in his letter before allud- 
ed to — probably the last he wrote — that his mental 
diliiculty, whatever it. may have been, was re- 
moved. But it had done a fearful work, and its 
effects were fatal. His family had hope that re- 
pose and quiet would restore him. But each 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 131 

succeeding day only increased his malady. His 
noble naind was unhinged — his fancy ranged with 
frantic wildness — and the sands of life hastened 
to their last. His mental sufferings were intense, 
and his imagination — too skilfully cultivated — be- 
came his tormentor. 

" Then the haunting visions rose, 

Spectres round his spirit's throne : 
Poet ! what can paint thy woes, 
But a pencil hke thine own !" 

He had conceived the plan of a majestic poem, 
which he never executed, entitled " The Death- 
Bed OF Hope," and now he spoke of it with feel- 
ings of agony. " Strange !" he would exclaim ; 
" was it not strange I should have thought of that 
subject ? Now I see it all : / a?n without hope /" 

Thus did he suffer, and thus did his malady in- 
crease, that in a few weeks his family deemed it 
advisable to remove him to the "Insane Retreat," 
at Hartford. Poor Bacon ! what sufferings were 
thine ! Conscious of the past — yet conscious of 
the madness which was destroying thee ! But 
his sufferings were not long protracted. On the 
29th of December, 1838, not three weeks from 
the day of his admission to the institution, his 
spirit passed gently and composedly away — and in 
full possession of its former powers — we may 
trust, to an everlasting rest. His remains were 
brought back to Simsbury, and on the 1st of Jan- 



132 BICHAKD BACON, JR. 

uary, 1839, amid the scenes of his pleasant boy- 
hood, attended by a weeping throng of friends 
and kindred, "he made his cold bed with the 
grave of the year !" 

Thus perished, at the age of 24, one of the 
noblest hearts that ever went down to death, in 
the i)ride of manhood. Our own feelings it were 
vain to describe. All other griefs which we had 
known seemed trifling in comparison with this. 

" We had lived and loved loirether 
Through many changing years :" 

And now that our friend was snatched away, and 
in so mournful a manner— dwelling in the dreary 
loneliness of a maniac's habitation— unable fully 
to realize the rich blessing of his fond parents' 
sympathy, and his brothers' and sisters' sorrow — 
and thus, by the peculiar sadness of his disease, 
dying, as it were, alone, in solitary anguish, — it 
was°hard, hard indeed to bear ! The burden of 
our grief was like the boy's sorrow for his first 
playmate — 

*' Oh call my brother back to mc— I cannot play alone !" 

We annex the following tribute to his memory, 
certain that if it has no other merit to commend 
it, it has that of honest sorrow for worth well be- 
loved and genius untimely blasted. It was the 
unstudied lament of a friend, for one most dear— 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 133 

and we add it with the regret that a worthier 
minstrel has not bewailed him with a worthier 
lay! 

STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF RICHARD BACON, JR. 

Friend of my soul ! while yet I hear 

Thy kindly voice's farewell tone — 
Thou sleepest with the slumbering year, 

And wintry winds above thee moan : 
Gone with thy genius' kindling fire — 

Thy manhood's glorious promise vain ; 
And I must tune my mournful lyre, 

To breathe for thee a funeral strain ! 

Ah ! feebly roams my hand along, 

O'er trembling chords to sadness strung ; 
For thee, thou child of joyous song. 

How can the solemn dirge be sung ?— 
Full oft my lyre its notes of woe 

Hath waked, when griefs my soul would bend : 
How shall I bid its numbers flow 

For thee, my best, familiar friend ! 

Thou art not dead ! I see thee still ! 

For Memory wakes her magic power; 
Again we climb the wooded hil!, 

Or seek the valley's vine-clad bower : 
Now by the wild brook's prattling stream] 

We rove, with careless spirits blest — 
Or watch the day-god's parting gleam 

Gush from the chambers of the west ! 

Tis noontide, in the leafy June ! 
Beneath some tall tree's fragrant shade — 
12 



134 RICHARD BACON, JR. 

Where soft winds breathe a whispered tune, 
Our forms along the turf are laid : 

And there, while griefs and care retire. 
And we in peace, alone, recline — 

Thou kindly list'st my simple lyre, 
And 1 do joyous list to thine ! 

The autumn's pensive days have come, 

And Death o'er Nature's bloom hath past : 
Among the funeral woods we roam, 

Where leaves are rustling on the blast : 
And while the breeze goes wailing by, 

And trees their leafless branches wave — 
We muse how Life's bright hopes must die, 

And man lie slumbering in the grave ! 

Alas ! alas ! and thou art dead ! 

The friend so true — beloved so well ! 
While Hope her wildest visions spread — 

Fond Memory ! cease tliy magic spell ! 
There's gloom along thy mountain's side, 

And by thy free brook's pebbly shore — 
There's sadness in thy summer's pride. 

For thou, my friend, will come no more ! 

And thou didst die, in manhood's prime, 

From home and fond delights away : 
While I beneath a distant clime, 

Was doomed in lonehness to stray ! 
I might not mark thy gathering care — 

When sickness, lone, thy form did bow : 
Nor cheer thy sorrowing heart's desjjair. 

Nor wipe the death-damp from thy brow ! 

And thou dost sleep that hallowed sleep, 
Which Earth may ne'er disturb again : 



RICHARD BACON, JR. 135 

No more thy sorrowing eye shall weep — 
No more thy bosom throb with pain ! 

And oft at morn, at noon, and eve, 

With pensive steps will mourners come^ 

Alone, o'er buried hopes to grieve, 
And weep above thy narrow home ! 

But now, farewell! — hard — hard to speak, 

To one of heart so true as thine : 
These flowing tears adown my cheek. 

Too well proclaim the grief of mine ! 
In yon bright heaven a glorious rest 

"We trust henceforth pertains to thee ; 
But the cold turf which wraps thy breast, 

Is all that now remains to me ! 



136 



THE CHEVALIER DE GERSTNER. 



BY W. M. GILLESPIE. 



A PROMixENT peculiarity of the American people 
is the earnest skill with which they improve every 
useful invention, originating either at home or 
abroad. While the rolls of the Patent Office tes- 
tify to their original inventive genius, their re- 
markable facility of improving and extending the 
discoveries of others can be vouched for by many 
a foreign inventor, who sees the child of his brain, 
which he had sent into the world quite perfect as 
he fondly thought, seized upon by some ingenious 
American, and so bettered, adapted and trans- 
formed, that its astonished and mortified author 
can scarcely recognize his own progeny. Rail- 
E0AD3 form a striking illustration of this national 
characteristic. The imperfect tram-roads of the 
English collieries have been developed in this 
country till they form an iron bond of union five 
thousand miles long ; and such is the perfection 
and ingenuity which their construction here dis- 
plays, that they have been the objects of the visits 
and study of many distinguished engineers from 
abroad. England, France and Russia have thus 
been well represented ; and we have now to la- 



THE CHEVALIER DE GERSTNER. 137 

ment the death of a scientific and able Austrian 
engineer, whose acknowledged talents and pro- 
fessional enthusiasm justified us in expecting addi- 
tional valuable results from his investigations. 

Francis Anthony, Chevalier de Gerstner, was 
born at Prague in Bohemia, April 17th, 1796. 
His father was the founder of the polytechnic 
school in that city, and was one of the most dis- 
tinguished practical mathematicians of his day. 
The young M. de Gerstner having been educated 
under such auspices, was appointed, when but 
twenty-one years of age, professor of practical 
geometr^f in the polytechnic school of Vienna, 
which post he filled for six years. But the prac- 
tical bent of his mind soon displayed itself, and 
led him to apply to actual usefulness his mathe- 
matical theories. A railroad connecting the 
Moldau with the Danube was then projected, as 
a part of a great chain uniting the German ocean 
with the Black sea. This led M. de Gerstner to 
visit England in 1822, to examine the internal 
improvements of that country. Upon his return 
he obtained a charter for a railroad from Bud- 
weis on the Moldau to Lintz on the Danube, and 
patriotically commenced the work at his own 
risk. It was, however, subsequently completed 
by a company. It is the first which w^as executed 
on the continent of Europe, and is one hundred 
and thirty miles in length. 

12* 



138 THE CHEVALIER DE GERSTNER. 

In 1829, he prepared for publication a work on 
mechanics, combining tlie substance of his father's 
lectures with the results of his own practice. It 
appeared in three quarto volumes, with many 
plates, and in spite of its expensive character, its 
sale in Germany amounted to three thousand 
copies. The technical reviews and scientific 
journals united in praising in the highest terms 
both the matter of the work and the manner of 
its treatment. 

In 1834, the Chevalier de Gerstner visited Rus- 
sia, and after familiarizing himself with the nature 
and resources of the countrv, laid bcfor6 the em- 
peror Nicholas the project of a railroad from St. 
Petersburg to Moscow. Circumstances would 
not then allow the full execution of this plan, but 
a small portion of the road was completed in a 
manner highly creditable to the scientific skill of 
the engineer; and the subsequent plans of the em- 
peror for binding together with these iron chains 
the widely separated portions of his vast empire, 
are doubtless due in a great degree to the sug- 
gestions of his professional adviser. 

The Chevalier de Gerstner had made frequent 
visits to England with a view to improvement in 
his profession, and in 1838 put into execution a 
long-cherished project of visiting the United 
States. After truvelhng through Germany, Hol- 
land, France, Belgium, and England, he reached 



THE CHEVALIER DE GERSTNER. 139 

this country in the steamer Great Western in No- 
vember of that year. 

He eagerly commenced his examination of our 
pubHc works, and from that time devoted himself 
unceasingly to the collection of information res- 
pecting them. He personally visited and inspect- 
ed all the important railroads and canals, and by 
free intercourse with their engineers, directors, 
&c., (to whose courtesy and ability he bore full 
testimony,) he obtained copious materials for a 
work upon their construction, management, and 
fiscal state. For such a task, his past life ren- 
dered him peculiarly suitable. He combined in a 
remarkable degree, scientific and mathematical 
knowledge with practical skill and experience ; 
and, from his statistical habitudes of mind, and his 
familiarity with European works of a like nature, 
could, with unusual fairness and justice, compare 
them with those of America. 

Of these qualities he gave proof, in a brochure 
on Belgian railroads, which he published while 
at Cincinnati. In it he classifies and expounds 
the satisfactory results of that government enter- 
prise, and attributes its great pecuniary success 
to the adoption of the principle of low fai-es. 
This is a doctrine which all travellers will vouch 
to be little practised in this country ; and yet all 
experience demonstrates that the reduction of 
the rate of passage on great thoroughfares, 



140 THE CHEVALIER DE GERSTNER. 

always increases the number of those who avail 
themselves of it, in so great a ratio as to render 
the change a source of augmented profit. 

In the prefatory part of this essay, he alludes 
to his American investigations, and states that 
the 3,000 miles of railroad then in operation cost 
$00,000,000, averaging $20,000 per mile. He 
also gives the very satisfactory result, that while 
their incomes varied considerably, their average 
return was 5^ per cent, upon the capital, and this 
was increasing annually at the rate of 15 to 20 
per cent, upon the gross income. When we 
consider that many of the roads included in his 
estimate were planned and built for the benefit 
of the inhabitants to whom they gave an outlet, 
with little regard to their value as investments ; 
that others were absurdly located by the force 
of speculation, as links between places which 
had no desire to approach, and that others were 
brought into existence by the pernicious selfish- 
ness of legislative log-rolling, — we may be allowed 
to feel strong confidence in the certain and great 
productiveness of railroads judiciously planned 
and executed. 

The important and useful work which the 
Chevalier de Gerstncr was preparing, was 
stopped in its progress by the illness which at- 
tacked him in December, 1839 ; and on the 12th 
of April, 1840, he expired in Philadelphia. He 



THE CHEVALIER DE GERSTNER. HI 

left his family in a foreign land to the sympathy 
of strangers by birth, but friends by the feelings 
excited by his merits and remarkable kindness of 
heart and manners. His death is a loss to the 
cause of internal improvement and its accom- 
panying benefits, not merely in America, but 
throughout the world. 



142 



REV. DEMETRIUS A. GALLITZIN, 



" THE PASTOR OF THE ALLEGH ANIES.** 



BY CHARLES CONSTANTINE PISE, D. D. 

The career of this venerable ecclesiastic has 
been characterized by traits of a very extraordi- 
nary nature. Destined, by birth, for the highest 
honors in his own country, he abandoned it, and 
sacrificed all his brightest anticipations, in order 
to devote himself to the cause of religion in the 
New World. Nor did he select, even here, a 
conspicuous theatre on which to figure ; but pre- 
ferred the retired and ruijfjed fastnesses of the 
Alleghany mountains, for the exercise of his zeal, 
and other eminent virtues. It was amid those 
solitary retreats, surrounded with a colony of 
poor settlers, that he erected a church, and made 
the " desert to blossom as the rose." During 
forty-one years, he devoted his fortune, his fine 
mind, his literary and theological attainments, to 
the service of the poor, amid the wilds of Penn- 
sylvania. And he cherished this voluntary ob- 
scurity beyond the glare of the court, and the 
purple of the church — either, or both of which he 
might have enjoyed, had he embraced the eccle- 



REV. DEMETRIUS A. GALLITZIN. 143 

siastical state in Europe, or chosen for his abode 
the metropolis, where pontiffs love to cover with 
merited dignities the princes of the earth, who 
choose " the Lord as their portion and heritage." 

The Rev. Demetrius A. Gallitzjn was the son 
of the most noble prince Gallitzin ; a name in 
which Russia prides herself, as among her wisest 
and most renowned, and all Europe recognizes 
as most distinguished and illustrious. Having 
filled some of the highest offices in the empire, 
the prince was sent to represent the Czar, as 
minister plenipotentiary to the court of Holland. 
It was whilst in the discharge of this high func- 
tion, that he gave birth, at the Hague, to the 
subject of this brief memoir. The twenty-second 
of December, A. D. 1770, ushered into Hfe the 
young Gallitzin, the flower of his family, — the 
future " pastor of the Alleghanies." 

His boyhood was spent in acquiring all the 
accomplishments proper for a youth of his noble 
condition : and possessing great talents and a 
natural enthusiasm of character, he did not fail to 
turn to the best advantage the opportunities 
which he enjoyed. Having arrived at his 
twenty-second year, adorned with an elegant 
person and captivating manners, but still more 
with an ingenuous and inquiring disposition, he 
determined to travel, in order to prepare himself 
still more thoroughly for the elevated station for 
which he was intended. He crossed the Atlantic, 



144 REV. DEMETRIUS A. GALLITZIN. 

with the view of observing the progress of civili- 
zation and human hberty in the repubUc of the 
United States. 

It is no difficult matter to imagine with what 
distinf^uished and cordial welcome the hope of 
tlio princely family of Gallitzin was received on 
tliese shores ; and with what exciting emotions his 
parents looked forward to the realization of all 
their designs in his regard. 

But Providence, who disposes all things 
** strongly and sweetly," had other views : in the 
midst of his career, when courted by all the 
world, on account of his immense fortune and 
illustrious birth, the convictions of religion came 
upon his spirit with irresistible energy. He had 
been born and educated in the Greek church, 
which, ever since the seventh century, had sepa- 
rated from the See of Rome, and, under an 
GEcumenical i)atriarch of its own choice, erected 
an ecclesiastical polity independent of the ancient 
Catholic church. The great controversy which 
agitated the east and west on the subject of the 
procession of the Holy Ghost from the Father 
and the Son, and the violent usurpation of 
authority grasped by the Greek patriarch in 
opposition to the rightful supremacy of the 
Roman pontitT, are familiar to every reader of 
ecclesiastical history. It may be, however, add- 
ed, that, although most of the dogmata of the 
Greek church are orthodox— although the mass. 



REV. DEMETRIUS A. GALLITZIN. 145 

transubstantiation, auricular confession, purgatory, 
&c. are strictly believed and adhered to, by its 
members, still no schismatics are more hostile to 
the western or Roman Catholic Church, than the 
Russians, and other partisans of the oriental usur- 
pation. The conduct of the reigning autocrat 
towards his Catholic subjects, as well in Russia 
as in Poland, sufficiently attests the truth of this 
assertion. Hence it is, that the Russians are 
taught, from their cradle, to abhor the Roman 
supremacy — and to cleave with superstitious and 
national tenacity to their own oecumenical pa- 
triarchate, as the source of all orthodox doctrine 
and legitimate discipline. The nobihty and 
gentry are nurtured, with peculiar care, in all 
these prejudices and hostile feelings against 
Rome. The reader may, therefore, easily con- 
ceive how profound must have been the investi- 
gations — how sincere the convictions — how great 
the triumph over prejudice — of young Gallitzin, 
when, amid all the dissipating scenes into which, 
as a gay traveller, he was thrown, he became a con- 
vert to the doctrines and supremacy of the Roman 
church. By taking this step, he was fully aware 
that he was blasting, at one stroke, all his future 
worldly hopes — that he was incurring the inex- 
orable displeasure of a Father, who before had 
doted on him, and was closing the doors of 
imperial favor against himself for ever. 

But his generous heart had resolved to make 
13 



146 REV. DEMETRIU3 A. GALLITZIN. 

the sacrifice. He was in quest of truth : and once 
convinced where it was to be found, he made up 
his mind to obtain it, at the peril of all things else. 
This was, for him, that " precious stone" of which 
the Scripture speaks ; to purchase which he was 
prepared to "sell all things he possessed." He 
had paused from the hurry of his travels, to search 
into the question which divided the Greek from 
the Roman Church. He consulted the oracle of 
the American Catholic church — John Carroll — at 
that time Bishop of Baltimore : a prelate, whose 
memory is as dear to our country as it is sacred 
to our religion : a prelate, whose patriotism and 
virtues were well known to the first Congress 
which deputed him on a most important mission 
to Canada, in company with his cousin Carroll 
of Carrollton, Benjamin Franklin, and Samuel 
Chase : a })relate, who combined the deepest con- 
victions of religion with the blandest manners and 
most tolerant disposition. It was this immortal 
Bishop, in whom Gallitzin found an instructor — 
as Augustine found in Ambrose, at Milan — to 
whom he unbosomed his inmost feelings — by 
whom he was instructed — and through whom he 
was admitted into the pale of the Catholic Com- 
munion. 

Having taken this step, he now formed the re- 
solution not to return to his native country, but to 
embrace the ecclesiastical state, and spend his 
life in spreading through the New World the doc- 



REV. DEMETRIUS A. GALLITZIN. 147 

trines which he beUeved to be revealed from hea- 
ven. To this end, he withdrew^ altogether from 
society, and retired into the Theological Seminary 
at Baltimore, in order to prepare himself for the 
work of the holy ministry. His course in that 
venerable institution, which had been founded by 
eminent divines exiled from France by the hor- 
rors of the Revolution, was edifying and exem- 
plary ; and, on the festival of Saint Joseph, the 
19th of March, anno 1795, he received the order 
of priesthood from the hands of Bishop Carroll. 

Had he, then, betaken himself to the " Eternal 
City," it is more than probable that he would, in a 
verv short time, have been invested with the 
highest honors of the church. His name, his for- 
tune, his accomplishments, his piety, would have 
richly entitled him to them. But, instead of seek- 
ing for such distinctions, he courted obscurity ; 
and, under the anonyme, as it may be termed, of 
" Rev. Mr. Smith," he retired into the interior 
of Pennsylvania, and commenced the exercise 
of the ministry on one of the farms belonging to 
Georgetown College, called Conewago. 

But, not satisfied with bounding his labors with- 
in the district of that mission, he extended them 
into the bosom of the Alleghanies ; in which, as 
if to bury himself still more deeply in solitude 
and oblivion, he, at length, determined to fix his 
residence. There, in the midst of a few poor 
families, he began his apostolic labors in the year 



148 REV. DEMETRIU8 A. GALLITZIN. 

1795; and continued in that wild retreat, round 
which, however, he gradually drew large congre- 
gations, until the period of his death. 

They only who have witnessed it, can form an 
idea of his boundless charity. Thousands now 
live to proclaim it, and bitterly to bewail the loss 
of it, by his departure into another world. His 
ample fortune was spent in aflbrding them tem- 
poral comfort, while his life was exhausted in 
conferring on them spiritual consolations. 

The Reverend Demetrius Gallitzin was gifted 
with rare intellectual endowments — and, as an 
author, occupies a conspicuous rank among the 
ecclesiastical writers of America. He had be- 
come a perfect master of the English language, 
which he spoke and wrote almost without any 
foreiirn idiom or accent. His " defence of Cath- 
olic principles" holds a place among the standard 
polemical works of our country : and the number 
of editions through which it has gone, both here 
and in England, vindicates his claim to the posi- 
tion which it now holds, and is likely to hold 
amonsT future f]:enerations. His manner of writ- 
ing is vigorous ; and a spirit of candor and a 
tone of high breeding preside over his most ear- 
nest and ardent works of controversy. He is 
keen, it must be admitted ; — but he cuts with a 
polished razor : and when he meets his antago- 
nist on the theological arena, he encounters him 
according to the tactics of honorable warfare ; 



REV. DEMETRIUS A. GALLITZJN. 149 

and in his victory, he is calm, forbearing, and 
just. 

Full of merits and good works, this venerable 
priest expired, in the 71st year of his age, on the 
6th of May, 1840. In his demise, the church has 
been deprived of one of her most eminent divines 
— the sanctuary, of one of its brightest luminaries 
— the community, of one of its most accomplished 
ornaments — the poor, of their best benefactor — 
and a numerous congregation, of their devoted 
pastor and father. 

Multis ille quid em flebilis occidit !* 

His grave is made in the solitude where his 
life was spent : and better rest, in peace, under 
the green turf watered by the tears of the poor, 
than lie neglected and forgotten beneath the 
stately mausoleums of the great. He has gone 
to receive the reward promised to the good and 
faithful servant — and his memory, as " Pastor of 
the Alleghanies," will be in benediction in the 
annals of the church. 



The tears of many will bewail his loss^ 



150 



WILLIAM LEGGETT. 

BY THEODORE SEDGAVICR. 

William Leggett was born in the city of 
New York, in the year 180:2. A portion of his 
education was acquired at Georgetown College, 
in the District of Columbia. In the year 1819, 
he accompanied his father's family to the State 
of Illinois, and it may well be that the free and 
unshackled life of the western prairies did much 
towards impressing on his character that bold 
and lofty independence which so much distin- 
guished it. In 1822 he entered the navy with 
the rank of midshipman ; but threw up his com- 
mission in 182G, owing to a personal diiTiculty 
with iiis commander, which, however, attached 
no blame whatever to him. His first literary 
etTorts resulted from this last step. He now 
published his " Leisure Hours at Sea" and several 
prose sketches, which were afterwards collected 
under the title of " Tales by a Country School- 
Master" 

In 1828 he established the " Critic," a weekly 
periodical, which did not, however, outlive a six- 
month's existence ; and in 1829 attached himself 
»to the " Evening Post." 



WILLIAM LEGGETT. 151 

In June, 1833, that paper became the lead- 
ing Administration journal in the city of New 
York, and when Mr. Bryant, the senior editor, 
went to Europe in 1834, its sole management 
fell into the hands of Mr. Leggett. 

It was from tnis time that Mr. Leggett's repu- 
tation began to culminate. He brought a new 
spirit to the important task in which he was en- 
gaged. While he remained firmly, nay, devo- 
tedly, attached to the democratic party, he 
pointed out and denounced with unprecedented 
boldness their faults and errors, and rapidly 
acquired, not only in his own party, but through- 
out the country, an elevated and commanding 
position. 

But unhappily for himself, more so still for the 
political party which he adorned, and most 
unfortunately for his country, this career was 
abruptly terminated. 

In 1835 he was seized by a violent illness, 
which reduced him to the borders of the grave, 
and for a year he was incapable of any continued 
exertion. 

In December, 1836, he established " The 
Plain Dealerr a paper intended to support 
democratic principles, but at the same time to 
examine all the measures of the government with 
perfect independence. The first numbers of this 
journal contain some of his boldest and most 
eloquent productions, but the hand of illness was 



152 WILLIAM LEGGETT. 

soon again laid heavily upon him, and he was, 
in 1837, compelled to discontinue the ''Plain 

Dealei^r 

In November, 1838, he was prominently before 
the nominating committee as a candidate for the 
Congressional nomination, but failed, owing to 
the anti-abolition fanaticism which then con- 
trolled the leading men of the democratic party 
in New York. 

This was his last public effort : he retired to 
New Rochelle, in Westchester county, and there, 
after a year of pain and suffering, borne with 
unflinching courage, died on the 29th of May, 
1839. 

These arc the prominent facts of the life of 
William Leggett, but they should not be unac- 
companied by a few at least of the comments 
which they naturally suggest. Lord Brougham 
has said of Sir Samuel Romilly, " It is fit that no 
occasion on which he is named should ever be 
passed over without an attempt to record the 
virtues and endowments of so great and good a 
man for the instruction of after-ages." 

It is equally fit, that no occasion on which 
William Leggett is named should be passed 
over without an attempt to record the example 
of a man who was a politician without selfish- 
ness, — a partisan, without yielding the indepen- 
dence of his own judgment, — whose life was a 
lesson of courage, honesty and truth. 



WILLIAM LEGGETT. 153 

His name may not reach after-ages, but those 
who knew him will ever love to dwell upon his 
memory, they will ever acknowledge the im- 
pulse given to their own minds by his active, 
intelligent and uncompromising independence. 
They will ever remember him as one who, but 
for untoward circumstances, an unkind fortune 
and premature death, would have deeply im- 
pressed his name on his age and country. 

I may be allowed to close this most imperfect 
sketch of this able and intrepid man by an ex- 
tract from the Preface to the edition of his works, 
which appeared in January last. 

" The foundation of his political system was an 
intense love of freedom. This, indeed, was the 
corner-stone of his intellect and his feelings. He 
absolutely adored the abstract idea of Hberty, and 
he would tolerate no shackles on her limbs. Lib- 
erty in faith — liberty in government — liberty in 
trade — liberty of action every way, — these were 
his fundamental tenets — these the source alike of 
his excellencies and his defects. * * * 
" His great desire on all the questions which 
agitated the country appeared to be the attain- 
ment and establishment of truth. The vehemence 
of his temperament and the force of his original 
impressions often had an obscuring tendency upon 
his mind. But against these he was forever 
striving. No one familiar with him but must 
have perceived the progress his mind was con- 



l.'li WILLIAM LEtiGETT. 

tinually making, and the manly inJepciulcncc with 
which, when once convinced of an error, he de- 
nounced and cast it olF. Truth was his first love 
and his last — the aflection of his life. His most 
favorite work was, I tliink, Milton's Arcopagitica, 
and the magnificent descri})tion of Truth which 
it contains was constantly on his lips. * * * 

•' The death of ^Ir. Leggett is dei)lured with a 
regret that arises as well from public as private 
considerations. We grieve for the loss of an ac- 
complished man of warm attachments, ardently 
devoted to his friends, and ready to make any 
sacrifice for them. But, if possible, we still more 
deeply lament the death of an elocjuent and inde- 
pendent politician, thuroughly imbued with the 
cardinal |»rinciples of liberty — of one with no su- 
perior, and scarcely a rival in his vocation, who, 
whatever his faults, had merits that a thousand- 
fold redeemed them ; his richly stored intellect — 
his vigorous eloquence — his earnest devotion to 
truth — his inca{)ability of fear — his superiority to 
all selfish views, — are forever embalmed in our 
memory. 

"Most especially do his friends dej)lore the time 
and circumstances of his death. Life appeared 
to be opening brightly, and the clouds which had 
luing around him seemed on the point of dis- 
]>ersing. 

•' Every year was softening his prejudices and 
calming his passions. Every year was enlarging 



WILLIAM LEGGETT. 155 

his charities and widening the bounds of his Ub- 
erahty. Had a more genial clime invigorated 
his constitution, and enabled him to return to his 
labors, a brilliant and honorable future might have 
certainly been predicted of him. He would not 
have left a name only as the conductor of a peri- 
odical press— he would not merely have left 
these transient and fleeting memorials of his 
ability and rectitude. It is not the suggestion of 
a too fond affection, but the voice of a calm judg- 
ment, which declares that, whatever public career 
he had pursued, he must have raised to his memo- 
ry an imperishable monument, and that as no 
name is now dearer to his friends, so few could 
then have been more honorably associated with 
the history of his country than that of William 
Leggett." 



156 



SOLOMON SOUTinVICK. 



BT S. S. RANDALL. 



Solomon Soutiiwick was born on the 2;">th of 
December, 1773, at Newport, llliode Island. His 
father was one of the earhest and most cUbctive 
champions of that gallant struggle for the rights 
of the colonists, which eventuated in the war of 
the Revolution. For several years prior to the 
commencement of hostilities, he was the editor 
of the Newport Mercury ; a journal deeply par- 
taking of the aroused spirit of the country, and 
devoted to the assertion and maintenance of those 
high principles which the men of that day regarded 
as inseparably identified with patriotism and public 
and private liberty. Ilis well known sentiments 
and etlective exertions in preparing the popular 
mind fur independence, rendered him peculiarly 
obnoxious to the officers and agents of the British 
government ; and, placed under the vindictive ban 
of an unscrupulous and irritated tyranny, he be- 
came one of the earliest victims of power and 
oppression. From a condition of competency, 
and even of atHuence, arising from his connexion 
with some of the hifi^hest and wealthiest families 
of the province, and from his own industry and 



SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 157 

talents, he was soon reduced to utter destitution ; 
hunted down by the myrmidons of despotism, 
driven from his native State and compelled to seek 
a precarious shelter wherever it might be found. 
His wife soon fell a victim to anxiety, care, and 
physical and mental sufferings ; and he survived 
her loss but a short period, leaving five children 
dependent upon the charity of the world for the 
means of subsistence. 

The subject of this sketch commenced his 
career, at twelve years of age, as cook to a 
fishing company bound for Cape Cod ; whence, 
after enduring the innumerable hardships and 
privations incident to circumstances so unfavor- 
able, he returned to Newport, and apprenticed 
himself to a baker. He afterwards abandoned 
this employment, and went on board a coasting 
vessel as a common sailor, where he remained 
sufficiently long to experience the usual variety 

of " hair-breadth 'scapes and imminent perils" 

to contract the worst acquaintances— and im- 
pregnate his ardent and susceptible, but immature 
mind, with those sentiments of infidehty and athe- 
ism which had already plentifully emanated from 
the fertile laboratory of the French Revolu- 
tion. 

At the age of eighteen, he was induced 
to give up this roving and unsettled life; and 
soon after obtained a situation as a printer's boy, 

14 



158 SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 

in an establishment in New York, in which, 
among others, the celebrated Charles Holt and 
Matthew L. Davis w^ere employed. Thence, 
at the solicitation of his brother-in-law, John 
Barber, then printer to the State, he proceeded 
to Albany, and first as a journeyman, and 
subsequently as partner, in the establishment of 
the " Albany Register," then the organ of the 
democratic party, laid the foundations for his 
subsequent busy and prosperous career as a 
politician. 

On the death of IMr. Barber, in 1808, he suc- 
ceeded to his interest in the Register, and was 
soon after apj)ointe(l printer to the State. In 
this capacity his talents, intrej)idity, and enthusi- 
astic energy of character, soon placed him at tlie 
head of his party, and enabled him for a long 
time to exercise an almost unlimited influence 
upon the political destinies of the State. He 
met, however, with a vigorous and powerful 
opposition, particularly in the city of Albany, 
then the stronghold of federalism, where he was 
obliged, for a considerable length of time, to stem 
the torrent of a formidable and exasperated ma- 
jority. To so high and unwonted a pitch was 
the popular feeling enlisted against him, that, on 
one occasion, his dwelling was surrounded at 
midnight by an infuriated mob, bent upon per- 
sonal violence, while an only and beloved 
daughter lay dead at the time iii the house. 



SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 159 

Few men have occupied a larger space in the 
early political history of our State; few have 
participated more extensively, and for a longer 
period of time, in the public confidence and 
regard ; and few have experienced more striking 
vicissitudes of fortune in the great arena of parti- 
zan warfare. But while a recapitulation of the 
exciting incidents which marked his political 
career could not fail to prove acceptable, as well 
from their important connexion with the history 
of the times, as from their intrinsic interest, the 
limits to which we are restricted necessarily 
compel us to hurry over this portion of his busy 
and eventful life. We cannot even stop to 
sketch the meagre outline of those stirring events 
in which he bore so conspicuous a part ; events 
which, in their immediate consequences, as well 
as ultimate results, exercised so important an 
influence upon the administration of our political 
affairs. Abundant materials are aflx)rded in a 
review of his biography, for a graphic and inter- 
esting history of a period fertile in incident, 
distinguished for the display of talent, and marked 
by the agitation of questions which have exerted 
a powerful influence upon the condition of 
society, and the success of our republican insti- 
tutions. We are induced to hope that some one 
more intimately conversant with this important 
era, and more familiar with its peculiar spirit, 
will yet be found to illustrate, by the aid of "these 



100 SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 

materials, a department of our civil and political 
history hitherto overlooked or but imperfectly 
appreciated. 

Of the causes immediate or remote, personal 
or political, which led to the final overthrow of 
Mr. Southwick's influence as the great and 
acknowledged leader of a triumphant party, and 
which brought in their train the loss of that 
immense fortune which, during a period of nearly 
thirty years, he had toiled most industriously and 
faithfully to acquire, we have neither time nor 
room here to sj)eak. Ilis enemies — and a man 
of his peculiar cast of character, basking for so 
long a period in the full and uninterrupted sun- 
shine of personal and political prosperity, and 
wielding so potent an inllucnce as that which 
moulds public opinion to its measures and its 
will, c<nil(l not choose but surround himself with 
strong and ])owerful enemies — have arraigned 
him upon weighty and serious charges ; many, 
and indeed most of which, have been thoroughly 
investigated, and a verdict of substantial acc^uittal 
awarded. 

In investigations of this nature, great allow- 
ance is undoubtedly to be made for peculiarity 
of position, — collocation of circumstances, — the 
prevalent code of political morality, — the con- 
tagious influence of example, — the tempting 
prize at stake, — the excited condition of the 



SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 161 

public mind, and particularly that of the principal 
combatants in the anomalous field of political 
warfare then opened, — and most of all, the ardent, 
ill regulated, rash, headstrong, and mercurial 
temperament of the individual thus called upon 
to reconcile, with the cool and dispassionate 
dictates of £ound judgment and strict morality, 
all the varied impulses by which his conduct 
was governed. The compulsory retirement of 
such a man from the familiar arena of political 
strife, with a ruined fortune and blasted expecta- 
tions, especially when we make due allowance 
for the splendid qualities which eminently fitted 
him to adorn the highest public station, was 
surely a retribution sufficiently severe. 

In 1816 Mr. South wick was appointed post- 
master in the city of Albany, the duties of which 
station he continued to discharge until near the 
close of Mr. Monroe^s administration, when he 
was displaced in favor of General Solomon Van 
Rensselaer. For several years he had acted as 
a regent of the University, under an appoint- 
ment from the Legislature, and also as one of 
the managers of the State Literature Lottery, 
under the same authority. While holding the 
office of State printer, and actively engaged in 
his editorial duties, he nevertheless found time 
to complete a thorough and regular course of 
legal studies; and, in 1813, was admitted as an 

14* 



IG2 SOLOMON BOUTIIVVICK. 

attorney, and subsequently as a courfecllor, of the 
Supreme Court. 

About tlie vear 1810, he established in the 
city of Albany, a weekly paper, under the title 
of the " IMough-Boy," principally devoted, as its 
name imports, to agricultural topics. He con- 
tinued the publication of this paper some two or 
three years, when he again emharkctl in the 
political contests of the day, and assumed the 
editorial charge of the ** National Democrat," in 
the same city, which he continued for about 
three years, during which time he look the field 
as the self-nominated candidate for Governor 
against Mr. Yates, and obtained a very respect- 
able supp)rt. 

When the vicissitudes of political fortune ter- 
minated his inlluence as a party leader, and with 
it the fairest prospects of worldly comlort and 
aflluence, it abated in no respect the zeal and 
spirit with which he had, from the first, been 
accustomed to regard those great principles of 
government and jjolicy upon which his i>olitical 
faith was founded. No longer, however, acting 
under the complicated responsibility of a party 
leader, and free to carry out, unembarrassed by 
counteractinij inllueuces, the su^frcstions of his 
own clear and vigorous mind, in that licld of 
political action which appeared to him the most 
important, he embarked all his energies in that 
famous crusade against the institution of Ma- 



SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 163 

sonry, which from 1827 to 1830 convulsed a 
great portion of the State, and produced for the 
time being a new and pecuHar organization of 
poHtical interests. 

To this subject, on its first agitation, Mr. 
Southwick, impelled alike by the ardor of his 
character, and the convictions of his sober judg- 
ment, devoted the concentrated energies of his 
powerful mind. He conducted a paper in the 
city of Albany, under the title of the " National 
Observer," devoted to the examination and dis- 
cussion of the various questions arising out of 
the anti-Masonic excitement ; and subsequently, 
he was placed in nomination by the anti-Masonic 
party, on its first political organization, as a 
candidate for the office of governor. The de- 
cline of his fortunes, however, political and 
pecuniary, prevented his continuance as the lead- 
ing editor of the party to which he had attached 
himself, and he was compelled, in justice to 
himself and his family, to retire from the noisy 
and vexatious clamor of politics to the privacy 
of the domestic circle. His long connexion 
with the party interests of the day had termi- 
nated : and the remainder of his life was devoted 
to study, to contemplation, to the welcome, and 
to him ever precious, enjoyments of a happy 
home, and to the dissemination of religious, 
moral and intellectual truth. The morning of 
his life was overshadowed with heavy and 



164 SOLOMON SOUTH WICK. 

threatening clouds ; his noon-day sun shone with 
a brilliant, perhaps a too brilliant and hurtful 
splendor ; but his evening declination was the 
steady, tempered reflection of a mellowed and 
softened light. 

It is to this period that we must chiefly refer 
his exertions in the great field of religious, moral 
and intellectual improvement, to which we are 
iixlebted for the most conclusive proofs of the 
vigor, depth and compass of his mind, as well as 
of the comprehensive benevolence and general 
philanthropy for which he was distinguished. 
We have seen that at an early period of his life, 
and when surrounded by an atmosphere of im- 
morality and vice, he was led to abandon the 
belief in Christianity, which had been instilled 
into his infant mind by the counsels of parental 
and maternal love, and to commit himself 
without a rudder or a compass to the stormy 
ocean of infidcHty. His subsequent efforts, how- 
ever, to disseminate the truth, beauty and sub- 
limity of the Bible, in an admirable course of 
lectures devoted to that subject, and delivered 
during the years 1831 to 1837, in n^ost of the 
principal towns and cities of the State, attest the 
soundness and the force of those religious con- 
victions which had finally fastened themselves 
upon his mind ; and his connexion with the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, which took place ' 
in 1831, as well as the uniform morality, purity 



SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 165 

and simplicity of his life, bear the strongest 
witness to their practical effect. His "lectures 
on the Bible" were accompanied by, and alter- 
nated with, occasional addresses on the subject 
of the Temperance Reform, then in its infancy : 
and it is but simple justice to say, that his exer- 
tions in this important field of labor contributed 
materially to the progress and success of the 
cause to which they were devoted. He also 
published about this period his " Letters of a 
Layman," under the signature of " Sherlock," 
addressed to Thomas Herttell, Esq. of New 
York, chiefly on the subject of that philosophical 
infidelity of which Mr. Herttell was known to be 
an able and distinguished champion. 

In the year 1819, Mr. South wick established 
and conducted for a considerable length of time 
a religious periodical, published in the city of 
Albany, entitled the " Christian Visitant," princi- 
pally devoted to an examination of the prevalent 
systems of Jacobinical infidelity which had, as 
before remarked, been transplanted in this country 
by the terrible whirlwind of the French Revolu- 
tion ; and which had taken deep root, particularly 
in the large cities and more populous places of 
our country. 

But the crowning excellence of his labors, in a 
literary and moral view, is his early, unremitted 
and assiduous devotion to the great cause of 
EDUCATION. Himself, emphatically, a self-made 



166 SOLOMON SOUTH WICK. 

man — owing all of knowledge, of mental and 
moral culture, of success in life, of honor, 
fame, distinction and usefulness, to his own 
exertions and perseverance — it was the pre- 
dominant desire — the master-passion, if we may 
so speak, of his mind, to communicate to others, 
particularly to the laboring classes, to the indi- 
gent, the obscure and the friendless — and gene- 
rally to young men in every condition of life, 
that knowledge of their powers and faculties 
which should render them independent alike of 
extraneous circumstances and adventitious aid, in 
the development of their minds. His address 
at the opening of the Albany Apprentices' Li- 
brary — an institution to the establishment of 
which his exertions materially contributed — is an 
earnest, impassioned and eloquent appeal upon 
this great subject, and secured for him the most 
gratifying tributes of applause and admiration 
from the ablest statesmen and most distinguished 
philanthropists at home and abroad. Wilberforce 
commended it as one of the highest efforts of 
comprehensive benevolence. Jefferson, Adams, 
and Monroe, addressed to him and others, letters 
expressive of their exalted admiration of his cha- 
racter and his efforts in the cause of Education. 
This address was, indeed, a masterly production 
— overflowing with an energy, a pathos and an 
eloquence, which only such a subject, in the hands 
of such a man, could elicit. His exertions in aid 



SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 167 

of indigent and deserving young men, particu- 
larly mechanics, struggling under the pressure of 
outward circumstances, were not confined to the 
closet or to the public lecture-room. While his 
fortune afforded the means, he constantly sought 
out those to whom he might beneficially extend 
the hand of assistance ; and he neglected no op- 
portunity of advancing and encouraging the in- 
dustrious and the deserving, by substantial testi- 
monials of the interest which he felt in their wel- 
fare. While holding the station of president of 
the Mechanics' and Farmers' Bank in the city of 
Albany, he, in several instances, and wholly with- 
out solicitation from those interested, endorsed 
notes presented for discount by such individuals, 
which had been refused by the Directors as inse- 
cure ; and on such occasions, his timely inter- 
ference was discovered only when the notes 
were taken up by those who had originally pre- 
sented them. 

JMr. Southwick's " Lectures on Self-Education," 
delivered co-temperaneously with those on the 
Bible, and subsequently repeated about a year 
previous to his death, before the Young Men's 
Association for Mutual Improvement in the city 
of Albany, created a general interest, and secured 
for him, wherever the course was announced, the 
most intelligent and respectable audiences. These 
lectures were eminently worthy of the ample 
genius and diversified experience of their author. 



168 SOLOMON SOUTIIWICK. 

To the young, they are particularly invaluable — 
comprising, as they do, a masterly exposition of 
the fundamental principles upon which intellec- 
tual and moral training and discipline depend. 
This great work was succeeded by ** Five Letters 
to Young Men, by an l.Hd Man of Sixty," designed 
to warn the young against the theatre, the gam- 
ing-house, the circus, and other seductive allure- 
ments and irrjmoralities peculiarly incident to 
cities. In all his various lectures, addiesses and 
orations, before literary and other societies, at 
public meetings and on anniversary occasions, he 
seems to have kept this great pur|)osc steadily in 
view ; and he neglected no opportunity which 
presented itself, to communicate the rich results 
of tiis own experience, varied and extensive read- 
ing, and comprehensive and judicious observa- 
tion, with reference to the cultivation and de- 
velopment of the mind. A few months previous 
to his death, he had pnijected the establishment 
of a Literary and Scientilic Institute, in the city of 
Albany, under his control and supervision, for the 
express purpose of afiording the requisite facilities 
to young men desirous of pursuing a course of 
self-education upon his plan ; and had oflered to 
indicate to those at a distance, who might wish to 
avail themselves of his course, without actual at- 
tendance upon the contemplated Institute, a sy- 
nopsis of its arrangement and ftiethod. 

Fur ^Iwo years immediately preceding his 



SOLOMON SOUTH WICK. 169 

death, he conducted the "Family Newspaper" 
pubhshed by his son, in the city of Albany— a 
weekly journal, devoted to literary and miscella- 
neous subjects. A great variety of manuscript 
productions upon several topics of general and 
local mterest; theological, political, literarv, moral, 
and miscellaneous, many of which it was his in- 
tention to revise and prepare for the press at a 
future period, were left by him in an unfinished 
state, when he was suddenly, and without anv 
previous warning, arrested by the hand of death 
in the midst of his usefulness, and the full ma- 
turity of his intellectual powers. Returning in 
company with his wife, from an evening visit he 
was suddenly attacked by an affection of 'the 
heart, which in about fifteen minutes terminated 
latally. His age was sixty-six. 

The chief elements which entered into the 
composition of Mr. Southwick's character were 
noble and intrinsically great. Reared in the 
school of adversity— struggling with, and sur- 
mounting, the most formidable obstacles to ad- 
vancement and success in life,— working out the 
materials for usefulness, honor and fame, by his 
own unaided and unassisted exertions, and finally 
triumphing by the mere force and energy of his 
character, over all that impeded his progress — 
obtaining, too, that most difficult of all victories 
the final and complete subjugation of the selfish 
15 



170 SOLOMON SOUTHWICK. 

propensities to the higher and nobler intellectual 
and moral nature,— this example cannot fail to 
prove eminently beneficial, in the present period 
of aroused and earnest conflict, for the ascen- 
dency of truth, and the purification of humanity. 



171 



HENRY J. FINN. 



BY EPES SARGENT. 



Among the victims of the tragic catastrophe 
which befell the Lexington, no one has been more 
generally lamented than the excellent comic 
actor, Henry J. Finn. Of his life the present 
writer has few particulars in his possession ; and 
he enters upon the task of furnishing a brief bi- 
ographical sketch, more for the purpose of ex- 
pressing a wish that others, with better means for 
doing justice to the memory of Finn, and with 
more copious materials for his history, would 
give to the public a fitting memoir, than with any 
hope of supplying the desideratum himself. The 
life of the actor is generally full of incident and 
variety ; and could Finn have lived to have writ- 
ten his own reminiscences, we believe we should 
have had one of the most interesting autobiogra- 
phical works connected with the stage. , 

We have heard from Mr. Finn's own lips that 
he was a native of the city of New York ; and 
from the report of others, we learn that he was 
born in the year 1782, of respectable parents. 
At an early age he was sent to the academy at 
Hackensack, then in high repute, under Mr, 



172 HENRY J. FINN. 

Traphagen. He afterwards, while yet a boy, 
sailed for England, having been sent for by an 
uncle, who was in affluent circumstances. He 
was accompanied on the voyage by his mother. 
The vessel, in which they embarked, foundered at 
sea, and the crew and passengers took to the 
boats and were for many days driven about, the 
sport of the winds and waves. They were at 
length picked up by a ship bound for Holland, 
and landed at Falmouth. Even thus early in life 
did Finn experience a foretaste of the awful fate 
that was to terminate his career. 

He arrived in London. The novelties and al- 
lurements of the great metropolis led him to dis- 
regard the austere injunctions of his uncle, and 
the old gentleman fuuilly died without bequeathing 
to him a penny. The mother had left this life 
some time before ; and Finn re-embarked for 
America, and arrived in the city of New York in 
the spring of 1799. Here he commenced the 
study of the law in the office of Thomas Phccnix, 
the late district attorney of the city. He did 
not, however, find the profession a congenial one, 
and»ifter spending two years over Blackstone and 
Coke, he abandoned it forever. Soon afterwards 
he revisited London, turned his attention to the 
stage, and appeared in subordinate characters at 
the Haymarket Theatre. He soon rose to be a 
favorite. 

A late number of the London New Monthly 



HENRY J. FINN. 173 

Magazine, conducted by Theodore Hook, says, in 
in a notice of a piece called " The Sleep-Walker," 
that " owing to the excellent acting of Mr. Jones 
and Mr. Finn in the little part of Thomas, it was 
the most successful piece of the season ;" so that 
even in his first attempt, and in a trifling charac- 
ter, he gave promise of reaching the reputation he 
has since acquired. In 1811 he returned to 
America, and made his first public appearance at 
Montreal, where he gave an entertainment con- 
sisting of recitations, songs, &:c. in which he was 
very successful. His next appearance was in 
New York, where he was received with marks of 
distinguished favor. Subsequently he became a 
member of the company of the Federal-street 
Theatre, Boston, where he continued for a number 
of years, and established a reputation as an actor, 
and a character as a man, which will be ever 
dear in the memory of the citizens. He first took 
to the tragic line in Boston — appearing as Othello 
to Cooper's lago — but he soon became convinced 
that he had mistaken his forte, and though his 
tragedy might be good, his comedy was far supe- 
rior. So he gave up Gloster, Shylock, and Mac- 
duff, for Paul Pry, Mawworm, and Dr. Ollapod. 

Long after he had become a confirmed favorite 
as a comedian, we remember seeing him play 
Shylock. But, although a stranger would have 
said he played the part more than respectably, 
yet the humorous associations connected with the 

15* 



174 HENRY J. FINN. 

intonations of his voice and the hnes of his coun- 
tenance, produced a ludicrous eflcct upon those 
who had been famihar with his rich comic per- 
sonations, and converted his tragedy to farce. 
We remembered " Billy Black," and when we 
saw him as the " inexorable Jew," sharpening his 
knife upon his shoe, we were disposed to call upon 
him for a conundrum. 

Mr. Finn was at one time manager of the 
Federal-street Theatre, in Boston, and visited 
England once or twice for the purpose of select- 
ing recruits. He brought over to this country 
some of the best stock actors now upon our 
stage. In 1828 he married the daughter of Mr. 
Powell, former manager of the Federal-street 
Theatre, and by her he had five children. 
Having accumulated a handsome property by 
his professional industry, he purchased a beauti- 
ful cottage at Newport, R. 1., where he spent a 
portion of the warm months, and recruited after 
his winter campaigns in Boston, New York, 
and, of latter years, in New Orleans and the 
southern cities, where he became an immense 
favorite. 

During the mania for speculation in 1835-6, 
Finn became " inoculated" with the rest of the 
world, and lost a considerable portion of his 
property by meddling with " fancy stocks." He 
was not, however, disheartened by his reverses. 
He applied himself with assiduity to his profes- 



HENRY J. FINN. 175 

sion, and was fast retrieving his losses. He had 
just finished a successful engagement at the 
Chesnut-street Theatre in Philadelphia, and was 
returning to his happy and hospitable homestead 
at Newport. He took passage from New York 
on the 13th of January, 1840, on board the Lex- 
ington, — since the destruction of which, by fire, 
with the precious cargo of human lives committed 
to it, nothing has been discovered in regard to the 
subject of our memoir. He undoubtedly per- 
ished with the greater portion of the ill-fated 
company, in the midst of horrors, which the 
imagination shrinks from contemplating : 

" Et nunc, sub undis oceani, 
Procul ab amicis, 
fi Immalura morte quiescit!" 

As an actor, Finn was gifted with true genius. 
His comic powers were indeed extraordinary. 
The spontaneous flashes of wit and merriment, 
which sparkled through all his personations, gave 
to them a peculiar zest. In Boston he was for 
many years the paramount favorite with the 
theatre-going public. His benefits were always 
handsomely attended ; and he had a peculiar 
faculty of attracting public attention by the in- 
genuity of his "cards" and announcements, 
which were usually made up of the most extra- 
ordinary and inconceivable puns, for which his 
own name furnished prolific materials. His 



176 HENRY J. FINN. 

representations of Beau Shatterly, Philip Garbois, 
Sir Peter Teazle, Bob Logic, Paul Shack, Mon- 
sieur Jacques, and other parts of peculiar humor, 
will long live in the memories of thousands. 

Finn's versatility was as extraordinary oft' the 
stage as on. He could paint miniatures very 
neatly, as also landscapes and portraits in oil. 
His comic songs are among the most ingenious 
in the lanfjuafj^e. He was the author of a drama 
called " Montgomery, or the Falls of Montmo- 
renci," which was acted in Boston with con- 
siderable success, and afterwards published. He 
also left behind him a manuscript tragedy, some 
specimens of which were published in the New 
York Mirror for 1839. He was the author of 
several comic annuals and almanacs, ^nd of 
many prose contributions, which show that he 
was the master of a pure and correct English 
style. I 

The following little poem, though inferior to 
many of the lyrical pieces of Finn, is interesting 
when read in connexion with the remembrance 
of his own melancholy end. The coincidence is 
not a little remarkable. 

THE FUNERAL AT SEA. 

Deep mists hung over the mariner's grave 

When the lioly funeral rite was read ; 
And every hreath on the dark blue wave 

Seemed hushed, to hallow the friendless dead. 



HENRY J. FINN. 177 

And heavily heaved on the gloomy sea, 

The ship that sheltered that homeless one — 

As though his funeral-hour should be 

When the waves were still and the winds were gone. 

And there he lay, in his coarse, cold shroud — 
And strangers were round the coffinless : 

Not a kinsman was seen among that crowd, 
Not an eye to weep, nor a lip to bless. 

No sound from the church's passing bell 

Was echoed along the pathless deep, 
The hearts that were far away to tell 

Where the mariner lies, in his lasting sleep. 

Not a whisper then lingered upon the air — 

O'er his body, one moment, his messmates bent ; 

But the plunging sound of the dead was there — 
And the ocean is now his monument ! 

But many a sigh, and many a tear, 

Shall be breathed, and shed, in the hours to come- 
When the widow and fatherless shall hear 

How he died, far, far from his happy home ! 

A writer in the Boston Morning Post says : 
*' We find it impossible to realize the melancholy 
fact in its full extent, that Finn is no more. The 
poet, wit, actor, painter, and author — the only 
legitimate representative of so many of the rich- 
est characters of the drama — the finished artist — 
at home in every department of his profession — 
of humor inexhaustible — of versatility unbounded 
— well may the children of the stage lament the 



178 HENRY J. FINN. 

loss of one of its brightest ornaments. It will be 
long ere we shall look upon his like again. 

" But it is not only as a professional man that 
we deplore his premature decease. As a per- 
sonal friend with whom we have pleasantly 
travelled a long way over the road of existence, 
we repine at his sudden exit. He is associated 
with the recollections of many scenes of hilarity 
and social enjoyment, which now come thronging 
back to our memory with painful distinctness. 
As a member of society, he was faultless in the 
performance of all the duties which pertain to 
that character. In ail the tender relations of 
consanguinity, his bearing was exemplary. 

" In his private intercourse, Finn was grave, 
unobtrusive, and reserved. With an exterior of 
great comic humor, his thoughts and conversation 
were naturally of a serious cast. He possessed 
not that How of animal spirits which many would 
suppose from the richness of his stage delineations. 
But he was always cheerful and kind in his bear- 
ing, courteous and respectful to all, assuming 
nothing and yielding every thing ; more prone to 
be a listener than a talker, and taking more plea- 
sure in seeing others shine than in attempting to 
shine himself. He was domestic in all his habits 
and feelings. 

" Finn was eminently a favorite with the press. 
Originally attached to it as the editor of a news- 
paper, it has constantly been his gratification, to 



HENRY J. FINN. 179 

employ moments snatched from the toil of his 
profession, to enliven the spirit of the public 
prints. There was nothing harsh or vindictive 
in his disposition or his writings. His jokes, 
though always pointed, had no power to wound, 
and we doubt if he ever hurt the feelings of a 
human being. The elements were kindly mixed 
up in him, and no provocation could arouse him 
to bitter resentment. Neither the taunts of pro- 
fessional jealousy, nor the injustice of heedless 
criticism, could disturb the equanimity of his 
temper. As a writer of humorous songs, Finn 
possessed talents as happy as they were rare. 
Our readers may recall several of them — his 
Fireman's song — his song at the Tariff dinner — 
at School dinners — at Horticultural celebrations 
— and, more recently, at the Mechanics' festival. 
" As a genteel comedian, he was also held in the 
highest estimation, and had he reserved himself 
for what is technically called the upper walks of 
the profession, he would have continued a dra- 
matic star of no ordinary magnitude. But when, 
in England, the sun of tragedy set with the ex- 
tinction of Kean, and the eccentric orb of Liston 
arose on the theatrical horizon, Finn's versatility 
enabled him to conform to the change in the pub- 
lic taste, and to take possession of, and hold on 
this continent without a rival, a line of character 
of which Liston was the original and end in the 
mother country. All these rich and humorous 



180 HENRY J. FINN. 

personifications of character are now lost to the 
stage : Beau Shatterly, Bobby Buckhorse, Bobby 
Trott, Dr. Logic, Billy Black, Mons. Jacques, 
Old Garbois, Paul Pry, and a host of others, 
peculiarly his own, and in which no other person 
can be tolerated while memory holds her seat. 
All these old and valuable stage acquaintances 
sunk beneath the wave with hiniy and were swal- 
lowed up forever. But why dwell on the cata- 
logue of lost treasures, and torture the heart with 
unavailing regrets ! 

" Burke said of Garrick, that ' his death eclipsed 
the gaiety of nations.' But probably the an- 
nouncement of his decease did not bring a pang 
to more bosoms than will be touched by the 
mournful relation of the fate of Finn." 



181 



REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 



BY JOSEPH H. MYERS. 



In essaying a sketch of this eminent and good 
man, we treat of one greatly beloved by many 
hundreds in this city, with whom he was long 
associated as a Christian teacher and pastor. 

But our object is not so much to detail the 
events of his life, in so far as it was passed in the 
ordinary labors of the ministry, — for this has 
already been competently done by several of his 
brethren,* — as to record briefly that peculiar ser- 
vice which he performed, while as a pioneer, in 
the remote West, and, at an earlier period, in the 
eastern suburbs of our city, he prepared the way, 
and aided to introduce and extend the benefits of 
knowledge and the blessings of the Christian 
faith. The character of Dr. Baldwin it is well 
to know in these aspects of it, for he is to be 
numbered with those who have done a good 
work in forming communities, and building up 
their great institutions. 

The Reverend EUhu W. Baldwin, D. D., late 
President of Wabash College, was born at Dur- 

* To these articles we are greatly indebted for the mate- 
rials of this sketch. 

16 



182 REV. ELIIIU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 

ham, Greene county, New York, December 25th, 
1789. He was the son of Deacon Jonathan 
Baldwin, formerly of Connecticut, and now re- 
siding at Atwater, Oliio. To the pious faithful- 
ness of his parents, who trained up their children 
according to the principles of the Bible, and to 
God's blessing upon that early parental instruc- 
tion, Dr. Baldwin attributed his religious char- 
acter. 

In his eighteenth year he entered Yale College, 
in the autumn of 1807. Ilis youth had been 
passed at his paternal home, where he pursued 
his preparatory studies under the guidance of the 
Rev. Jesse Townsend, pastor of the church in 
Durham. 

While in college he was admitted to much in- 
timacy with its venerable president, Dr. Dwight, 
whose confidence he so far acquired as to be 
chosen to act as tutor to one of his sons. This 
period of intercourse with Dr. Dwight was ever 
regarded by the subject of this notice as one of 
the bright spots of his life. In after-years he 
looked on this eminent person as his model, and 
ever spoke of him in terms of the highest rev- 
erence. 

Together with more than twenty of his fellow- 
students, he connected himself with the church 
of Yale College in 1808, for then, first, he deemed 
himself a Christian, having received the faith of 



REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 183 

the Gospel in the spring of that year. From a 
child, however, spiritual realities had exercised 
power over him, but now, for the first time, he 
dedicates himself to God, " with awe," to use 
his own language, " with awe of the presence of 
an all-seeing God. I resolved to live to him from 
this time forever." 

He was graduated in 1812. His residence at 
college had been protracted to five years, he 
having found it necessary, in order to increase 
his pecuniary resources, to teach for one year, 
while pursuing his collegiate studies ; and after 
leaving the institution, the two succeeding years 
were also employed in teaching. 

At the acaderny in Fairfield, Connecticut, of 
which at this time he was principal, he was 
every way successful, and throughout life he was 
a very able instructor of youth. 

In November, 1814, he became a member of 
the Theological Seminary at Andover ; among 
the kindred spirits with whom he there asso- 
ciated, was the lamented missionary Parsons, to 
whom he became strongly attached. 

September 10th, 1817, he was ordained to 
the gospel ministry, and repaired to New York 
with the determination of going as a missionary 
to the western territory, under the auspices of 
the Young Men's Society of this city. At their 
unanimous request he consented to forego the 
execution of this plan, in favor of a district within 



184 REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 

the limits of the city. The position which he 
might occupy, or the place where he should 
labor, was probably, in his view, of little moment* 
He had just before written in his diary, " I now 
clearly perceive that the favor of God is enough 
for me. Let me have his presence and behold 
his glory, and I desire no more." 

We here approach that part of his life when 
his peculiar work began. To him was now 
assigned the task of winning a rude people to 
orderly and upright practices, and to the exer- 
cise of Christian meekness and love, and of 
establishing among them those institutions which 
tend to secure culture of mind and rectitude of 
heart. Under the direction of the Society, he 
commenced his labors on the East river, near 
Corlaer's Hook. " The field was most forbid- 
ding. It was in the suburbs, separated by a 
wide waste, unsafe by night to the traveller, from 
the city proper. A few only of the streets were 
regulated. Rugged hills, partially undermined, 
and humble detached dwellings, presented an 
unsightly appearance. The jieople were not 
less rugged. The neighborhood was known 
as a place of infamous resort by day and by 
night." 

Here he visited and preached from house to 
house. He began his public ministry^ November 
22d, 1817. An upper room of a private dwelling, 
occupied as a school-room, served him and his little 



REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 185 

company as a place of worship. At first no more 
than fifteen persons assembled. By the accession 
of others, he was soon encouraged to proceed to 
the establishment of a church, and on the 24th 
of March of the following spring, the seventh 
Presbyterian church of New York was organized 
at a private room in Grand street. It consisted 
then of only 20 members. They were all poor, 
and earned their daily bread by their daily labor. 
At the date of this writing, less than twenty-three 
years from the establishment of that church un- 
der Dr. Baldwin, it has received more than nine- 
teen hundred members, and sent forth two nume- 
rous colonies, over which are placed faithful 
pastors. 

We need not trace minutely the progress of 
this body in numbers, wealth, character, and in- 
fluence. Our concern is rather with their lead- 
er, whose efforts were zealous and persevering, 
and his labors as a pastor always abundant. 

Nor were his studies neglected. The reputa- 
tion for scholarship which he had won and sus- 
tained at college and at Andover, was preserved 
in spite of his missionary toils, and throughout 
life. 

During his connexion with this society, which 
continued for eighteen years, and was terminated 
only by his removal to the west, he maintained 
that unwearied assiduity and self-denial which 
characterised his labors. Three times, chiefly 

16* 



186 REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 

through his exertions, was a house of worship 
erected ; the first one occupied by them having 
been sold in order to free the society from debt, 
and their beautiful house, built in 1826, was burnt 
down early in 1831. In November of that year 
they were enabled, with the aid of friends, to com- 
plete another edifice ; and here, during this and the 
succeeding year, large numbers were added to 
the church, which, soon after, was composed of 
six hundred persons ; and in its Sunday Schools 
one thousand children received instruction. 

It may be well to note the fact, that for a con- 
siderable period — about nine years, — Dr. Baldwin 
had received only five hundred dollars, annually. 
This was while acting as a missionary : for the 
six years next succeeding, his annual stipend did 
not exceed eight hundred : this was increased to 
twelve hundred dollars for each of the three 
years that followed. " Very often were he and 
his family driven to great straits, and at times 
such was their destitution that they scarcely 
knew where or how to obtain their daily bread. 
But they trusted not in vain to Him whom they 
served. The early history of no church in this 
city, it is thought, presents such a continued suc- 
cession of trials." Notwithstanding these embar- 
rassments and trials, hitherto he had steadily re- 
fused to go elsewhere, preferring his own people, 
endeared to him by mutual services, and by com- 
mon joys and sorrows, to the important and de- 



REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 187 

sirable stations which he was soHcited to occupy. 
But early in 1835, he was invited to repair to 
that region w^hich he had himself first chosen as 
the field of his early labors, and there to under- 
take the presidency of Wabash College. 

To the urgent request of the Board of Trustees, 
supported, after mature consideration, by his 
brethren and friends, and enforced by his own 
convictions of duty, he could not refuse to accede, 
and in the autumn of 1835, he removed with his 
family to Crawfordsville, Indiana, and, assuming 
the responsibilities of his office, entered with vigor 
upon the discharge of its duties. 

Before quitting New York, he had made suc- 
cessful efforts to enlarge the pecuniary resources 
of the College, and thus to increase its means of 
usefulness ; and to accomplish this, his energies 
were employed during the remaining five years 
of his Hfe. 

The College edifice, the erection of which he 
had undertaken and effected, having been de- 
stroyed by fire in 1838, he lived to see it rebuilt 
in an improved manner. This was the ffth 
public building erected mainly through his exer- 
tions. But the time was at length come when 
his benevolent efforts were to cease. 

He died on the 15th of October, of the present 
year, after a painful illness, in the 51st year of his 
age. He departed in the midst of his labors, 
removed by a disease brought upon him during 



188 REV. ELIHU \V. BALDWIN, D. D. 

a three weeks' tour made in behalf of the Col- 
lege. 

In an interval of ease, just before his dissolu- 
tion, he sent an affectionate message to the 
students, conveying the tenderness of the pa- 
rental friend, and the yearning love of the 
Christian teacher, importing his heart's desire, 
and prayer to God for them that they might bi 
saved. Respecting himself he used this lan- 
guage. " 1 want peace, great peace. 1 am 
unworthy of it. I am a poor sinner. I am 
willing to be humbled before the universe ; but 
mv trust is in the merits of Christ." 

He who uttered tliis on his death-bed, had 
long brought his passions into complete sub- 
jection, so that no angry or harsh expression 
ever escaped him. The purpose to effect this 
he had formed in his eighteenth year, and had 
inserted the resolution in his diary. Moreover, 
good will and good deeds dwelt in his heart and 
adorned his life. His was a far-reaching be- 
nevolence, which in its wide expansion would 
embrace all men ; in this spirit, he labored stren- 
uously to advance their well-being. 

Such lowliness of mind as is breathed in the 
expressions we have recorded, could result, then, 
only from a comparison of himself with infinite 
purity and holiness. From this were derived 
his power and steadiness in action ; in the depths 



REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 189 

of self-abasement before God, springs up the 
energy to do good to men. 

From different sources we learn the high 
consideration he had gained at the West ; we 
need not speak of the affection and reverence 
which were borne him by numbers here. He 
was loved as a father by a numerous people, and 
to them and his many friends, his annual visits 
to the city afforded the highest gratification. 
Some among us yet look on his features pre- 
served by the limner's art ; his virtues are en- 
graven on many hearts. 

During the five years of his presidency, his in- 
fluence had spread far in the State which he had 
chosen for his home ; he had become well known 
to the people, and from them his memory will not 
pass away. 

His voice had been heard throughout the Wa- 
bash valley, and in the councils of that common- 
wealth, when he pleaded the cause of education 
and sought legislative aid in behalf of the institu- 
tion which he represented. To that institution 
he was a most faithful friend — as the constituted 
guardian of its interests, he strove assiduously to 
advance them at home and abroad. 

The students found in him a mild but firm coun- 
sellor and director, a ready and most communi- 
cative teacher. He secured the attention of his 
pupils by a happy facility of illustration, and by 
his power of appeal to the understanding, im» 



il 



190 REV. ELIHU W. BALDWIN, D. D. 



pressed and fastened his instructions on their 
minds. 

But as with him the spiritual and eternal had 
long held the pre-eminence over all things tangi- 
ble and transitory, so he sought with special ear- 
nestness and diligence to win them and others to 
the love of all excellence and goodness, as mani- i 
fested in his Divine Lord, and to the practice of j 
his holy precepts. 

In conversation, as well as in public discourse, j 
such themes were dearest to him. 

May his life of laborious diligence, and high 
achievement, find many imitators, so that not only 
humanizing arts, but all ennobling virtues, may 
nourish and adorn our land. 



191 



NICHOLAS CUSICK. 

This distinguished Indian chief was born at the 
Oneida Reservation, in the western part of the 
State of New York, on the 15th of June, 1756. 
At an early age he was kept at school for several 
years by Sir William Johnson ; and he then re- 
turned to his own people, and remained among 
them until the commencement of the Revolution- 
ary war. At this time the British Government 
were very desirous to secure his services in be- 
half of the crown ; and he is said to have indig- 
nantly refused a commission in the army, proffer- 
ed to him, with a large salary, through a distin- 
guished officer in the British service. Soon after this 
occurrence, at a council held by the agents of the 
Provincial Government, with the friendly Oneida 
Indians, he offered himself as a volunteer, and as 
such enlisted in the army under General Wash- 
ington. With the warriors whom he brought 
with him into this alliance, and by his intimate 
knowledge of the English and Indian languages, 
he rendered essential service to the cause in which 
he had enlisted. He soon received a lieutenant's 
commission and continued in the service for about 
five years ; and on many occasions he appears to 



192 NICHOLAS CUSICK. 

•have given great aid to the Americans. At one 
time, in particular, he is said to have saved the 
division under Lafayette from an ahnost certain 
destruction. 

Upon his leaving the service at the close of the 
war, a pension was settled upon him, which he 
continued to receive until his death. Soon after 
the restoration of peace, he was appointed by the 
Six Nations, first chief of tlic Tuscaroras, and 
was ever regarded as faithful in his endeavors 
for the good of his people and of the United 
States. He also sustained an important part in 
the late war with England. 

Cusick is described by many who knew him 
intimately, as having been in many respects a re- 
markable man. In whatever situation he was 
placed, it required but a glance to discover that 
his was a master-spirit. He was fond, in his lat- 
ter days, of relating to those who felt an interest 
in them, the stirring scenes in which he had been 
engaged : and at such times it was highly inter- 
esting to watch the changes in his features 
as the visions of the past flitted before him. 
For some fifty years before his death, he had 
professed the Christian faith, and was subsequent- 
ly appointed an interpreter among the Indians by 
the Missionary Society then existing. He resign- 
ed the office about ten years since, and died at 
Tuscarora Village, October 29th, 1840, aged 82 
years. 



193 



REV. JOHNT. KIRKLAND,D.D.,LL.D. 

The great Hooker beautifully remarks that ' the 
life of a pious clergyman is visible rhetoric ;' and 
to few in any country is the maxim more pecu- 
liarly applicable, than to the individual just named 
as the subject of a brief sketch. His father was 
one of those self-denying christians, worthy to be 
the successors of the glorious band of martyrs 
whose blood has sealed their faith, who devote 
their lives to the service of truth in the lands of 
heathendom. His son was born on the 17th of 
August, 1770, at Little Falls, on the Mohawk, iri 
New York, and received the rudiments of an 
English education, under the disadvantages inci- 
dent to his situation in a town comparatively new, 
in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, whither his parents 
had removed in 1772. At the age of thirteen he 
was placed by his father at an academy in Ando- 
ver, where, by the generous assistance of the 
Hon. Samuel Phillips, a gentleman of eminent 
legal abilities, and afterwards lieutenant gover- 
I nor of the State, he was enabled to prepare for 

(admission to Harvard college, where he was gra- 
J duated with distinguished honors at the age of 
nineteen. 

17 



li)4 REV. JOHN THORNTON KIRKLAND, LL. D. 

After four years divided between teaching and 
the study of divinity, on the 5th of February, 
1794, he v^as ordained as pastor of the church in 
Sumner street, Boston. In deUvering to him his 
solemn charge, his father, venerable for his years 
and the purity of his character, said to him v^^ith 
a kind of prophetic vision, " You are a son of 
prayers and of vows. May God Almighty bless 
you ; and may you increase whilst I decrease, 
and shine many years as a bright star in the Re- 
deemer's hand, when I, your natural father, am 
set, and seen no more." This solemn prayer of 
his time-honored parent was fully answered, in 
the unusual popularity which the preaching of his 
son immediately commanded, and ultimately in 
the extended reputation which he acquired as a 
stern moralist and the greatest ethical preacher 
of his age. His sermons were characterized by 
great depth of thought, — by the broad and all-em- 
bracing philosophy, as well as charity, which 
shone through them, — by the energy and richness 
of their language, — and above all, by that profound, 
intimate and soul-searching knowledge of man — 
of the tortuous mazes of the human heart and the 
hidden motives which control human action — 
which, more than any other man, he had at abso- 
lute command. 

In 1810 he was elected to the presidency of 
Harvard college, which was rendered vacant by 
the death of Dr. Webber. With great reluctance 



REV. JOHN THORNTON KIRKLAND, LL. D. 195 

he accepted the appointment, and the period of 
his continuance in office has been designated as 
the Augustan age of Harvard university. Under 
his direction, and mainly by his efforts, the course 
of studies was enlarged and the standard of 
scholarship raised, the law school was established, 
the medical school re-organized, and a body of 
professors and tutors collected together, unrivalled 
in talents, in acquirements, and in high literary en- 
thusiasm — a constellation of learning such as the 
university has witnessed neither before nor since 
his time. The names of Frisbie, Farrar, Norton, 
Everett, Ticknor, Popkin, Bigelow, Sparks, Ban- 
croft, Cogswell and Follen, who were all his co- 
adjutors, are alone sufficient to establish this fact. 
His intercourse with the students, too, marked as 
it was by that kindness and urbanity which form- 
ed so prominent a part of his character, and uni- 
formly characterized by a courtly and dignified 
address, tempered with the utmost ease and an 
affectionate solicitude for their welfare, inspired 
them at once with confidence for their head, and 
an earnest ambition to excel in the arts and graces 
of which he was so eminent a master. After 
presiding for eighteen years with dignity and the 
most distinguished success over the highest Htera- 
ry institution of his country, he was forced, by a 
severe attack of the paralysis, to leave it. He 
resigned in March, 1828, and spent several years 
in travelling — for a portion of that time through 



196 REV. JOHN THORNTON KIRKLAND, LL. D. 

the western and southern portions of the United 
States, but principally in Europe and the west- 
ern cities of Asia. He returned to this country 
in 1832, and spent the remainder of his life, cloud- 
ed as it was by feeble health, in Boston, where he 
died on the 28th of April, 1840. His death called 
forth many excellent funeral discourses, the best 
of which are those by the Rev. Messrs. Parkman, 
Young and Palfrey. 



197 



WILLIAM MACLURE. 

Of the early life of this distinguished naturalist 
and munificent patron of the scientific associations 
in this country, we have but meagre information. 
We only know, generally, that for some years he 
devoted himself to mercantile pursuits, in which 
he amassed a handsome fortune : but having 
formed an acquaintance, which resulted in a close 
and long-continued intimacy, with Say, one of the 
first naturalists this country has produced, he 
subsequently gave his time and much of his for- 
tune to the promotion of those objects in which 
his whole energies were thus enlisted. 

The study of Natural History in its various 
branches, notwithstanding the great inducements 
to its pursuit presented by the pecuKar character 
of our country, and the splendid advantages 
which would accrue to every department of en- 
terprise from its successful cultivation, has never 
received that attention in the United States to 
which its high importance and ennobling charac- 
ter so eminently entitle it. Within a few years, 
however, it has awakened the interest and excited 
the efforts of many of our most ingenious and 
philosophical minds. This may be attributed, in 

17* 



198 WILLIAM MACLURE. 

no small degree, to the exertions and influence of 
the * Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadel- 
phia'; an institution formed in 1812 for the ad- 
vancement of this department of scientific inquiry^ 
and which owes its present high character and 
influence, as well as its prospects of future useful- 
ness, in a great measure to the zealous co-opera- 
tion of Mr. Maclure in the earlier stages of its 
existence. The enterprise was then new, and, 
altiiough useful, exceedingly diflicult. In 1816, 
when the institution was struggling for its very 
being, Mr. Maclure attached himself to it and 
identified himself with its welfare, with a zeal and 
liberality which have few examples on record. 
He visited Europe and traversed the entire conti- 
nent, making the most valuable collections of 
books and s])ecimens, and taking advantage of 
every thing which could advance the interests of 
his favorite pursuit and his adopted institution. 
The academy now possesses the largest and most 
valuable library on the continent, in the depart- 
ment of natural history.; and in their published 
" Notice," they declare themselves " indebted to 
Mr. Maclure for seven-tenths of all the books 
contained in it." 

In 1825, this devotee to the interests of learning 
projected a scheme of education, embracing in its 
details all that is valuable in literature, science 
and art. For the purpose of carrying his designs 
into more complete execution, he removed to 



WILLIAM MACLURE. 199 

New Harmony, in Indiana, where he concentrated 
his library, his splendid collections in natural his- 
tory, and whatever else could best promote his 
cherished object.* 

The failure of his health made it necessary for 
him to remove to a milder climate : and he ac- 
cordingly went to Mexico, where he died, at the 
village of San Angel, on the 22d of March, 1840, 
in the 75th year of his age. The only works 
from his pen, of which we are aware, are a vol- 
ume entitled " Opinions on Various Subjects dedi- 
cated to the Industrious Producers," and another 
embracing many valuable facts relating to the 
Geology of the United States. The former con- 
sists mainly of articles primarily written while in 
Paris for the Revue Encyclopedique, which were 
however excluded by the censors of the press, 
and afterwards published in Spanish at Madrid. 

* It should here be mentioned, that Mr. Maclure's 
object was entirely unconnected with, and diflferent from, 
the eccentric scheme of Mr. Robert Owen, of which the 
same place was the theatre. A contrary impression would 
be obtained from an article in the Lond. Athenaeum, Au- 
gust 22d, 1840. 



iiOO 



REV. WILLIAM STONE. 

Among the clergymen who have deceased during 
the eventful year 1810, was the late Rev. Wil- 
liam Stone — father of the writer of this brief 
tribute to his memory. He died at Soilus, in the 
county of Wayne, on the 20th of March, 1810, 
aged 83 years. 

Mr. Stone was born in the town of Guilford, 
New Haven county, in the State of Connecticut. 
His ancestors were of the sturdy band of pil- 
grims, who planted that town in the year 1G.39. 
His mother was a Lcete — the grand-daughter of 
"Captain Andrew Leete," as he is called by Cot- 
ton Mather, although he was also a judge of the 
Superior Court, and sat upon the trial of Mercy 
Disbrough and Goodwife Clawson, for witchcraft, 
in Fairfield county, in 1G92. Captain Andrew 
Leete was the son of Governor William Leete, 
the founder of the Guilford Plantation, as it was 
termed, and for several years governor of the 
colony of Connecticut, and afterward of the col- 
onies of Connecticut and New Haven united. 

The life of Mr. Stone, until within the last 
twenty years, was one of great vicissitude and 
activity. He was a soldier of the Revolution, 



REV. WILLIAM STONE. 201 

as well as of the church militant. In the earlier 
part of the war, he left his books — all that he 
could not carry in his knapsack — and went into 
the army as a common soldier, to relieve a broth- 
er who was in ill health. That brother died : 
but patriotism, in those days, was something 
more than a name, and a love of country induced 
. the deceased to enlist for an additional term of 
three years, during which he saw much service. 
In the course of the war he was at the battles of 
White Plains, Germantown, and Monmouth, be- 
sides other affairs. At Germantown he stood 
near Gen. Nash when that fire-eater fell. He 
was at the execution of Andre, and did not quit 
the service until the close of the fighting part of 
the conflict. " I shall ever remember your fath- 
er," said the late Gen. Wilcox of Killingworth, to 
the writer, " for in the army he always carried 
the whole works of Josephus in his knapsack." 

He was a man of undaunted courage. On one 
occasion, he, with only an elder brother, repelled a 
boat's crew of the marauding refugees, who were 
j attempting to land at Guilford Neck. Subsequent- 
ly a large band of refugees, led by a Captain Hath- 
away of Suffield, landed at the same point, plun- 
dered (he family mansion, and made the deceased 
a prisoner. During the passage of the free-boot- 
ers down the Sound, they encountered a flotilla of 
boats manned by the Whigs, and after a smart 
skirmish the former were taken. Their prisoner 



202 REV. WILLIAM STONE. 

always, in relating the atfair, expressed his mor- 
tification at the cowardice of his captors in this 
combat. This Captain Hathaway was somewhat 
celebrated for his piratical exploits in the service 
of the crown, as may be seen in the Rcmejuhrancer 
— a periodical j)ublished in London during the 
war of the Revolution, antl generally devoted as 
a record of the events of that contest. 

The belligerent part of the war of the Revolu- 
tion being over, Mr. Stone resumed his studies, 
and passed his freshman year at Dartmouth col- 
lege. The late celebrated Stej)hen Burroughs 
was there, a classmate, and in good standing. — 
The three subsequent years of his collegiate life 
were passed at Yale, where he was graduated in 
178G. The t^raduatin;' class of that vear stands 
out in proud relief, for the many distinguished 
men it contained. Mr. Stone was a good mathe- 
matician, but occupied a high rank as a linguist. 
Of Greek and Hebrew he was a thorough mas- 
ter ; and because of his fondness for, and profi- 
ciency in, the Hebrew, he was a great favorite of 
his preceptor in that department of letters, Presi- 
dent Stiles. Doctor Stiles was a man of great 
learning, and w^as a profound Hebraist. He cor- 
responded with many learned men of the east, \ 
and with several rabbins, one of whom resided in 
Jerusalem. He thought there could scarcely be 
any genuine sacred music except in the Hebrew 
tongue, and was wont to engage his favorite pupil 



REV. WILLIAM STONE. 203 

to visit him for the purpose of helping him to sing 
in that venerated language. 

The college chum of Mr. Stone was John Bird, 
of Litchfield, who afterward settled in Trov, 
and was early distinguished at the bar of this 
State, in the State legislature, and also for a brief 
though brilliant career in Congress. 

Pursuing vigorously the study of theology, Mr. 
Stone was soon licensed as a candidate for ordi- 
nation, by the Connci^ticut Association, and for 
thirty-five years thereafter occupied a wider field, 
and performed more clerical labor, than almost 
any other man. He was stationed at one period 
at Claremont, New Hampshire, and at another 
period at Brattleborough, Vermont. From the 
east he performed a voluntary mission through 
all the original States except Rhode Island, into 
Florida. Nearly four years of this time he spent 
in the two Carohnas and Georgia, where he form- 
ed extensive acquaintances. For a considerable 
time he was in the family of General Wayne, 
then residing in Georgia, upon a plantation pre- 
sented him by that State for his revolutionary 
services. While traversing the regions of the 
south, the deceased encountered several wild and 
thrilling adventures. 

Returning to the north, he preached for a sea- 
son in the eastern part of Long Island, where he 
had previously taught school. He then removed 
into the State of New- York, accepting a parish in 



204 REV. WILLIAM STONE. 

the then extensive town of New-PaUz, in the 
county of Ulster, where he was ordained — the 
Rev. Stanley Griswold, then of New-Mel ford, 
Conn., preaching the sermon. Mr. Griswold 
was a classmate : but afterward relinquished the 
ministry, and became a prominent politician, first 
as,an editor of a newspaper in New Hampshire. 
He was engaged for that post by the celebrated 
and eloquent colloquialist, Seth Hunt. By the 
assistance of Mr. Griswold, a man of splendid 
talents, Mr. Hunt was enabled to revolutionize 
New Hampshire, and bring it into the support of 
Mr. Jeflerson's administration. Mr. Griswold 
was subsccpiently appointed secretary of the 
territory of Michigan, and removed to Detroit. 
From tlience he removed to Ohio, where he was 
appointed a judge ; but he shortly afterward 
took up his abode in Indiana, where he was 
elected to the Senate of the United States, but 
died before he took his seat. 

But to return to the subject of the present 
article. Not being able to preach in Dutch, as the 
good people of New-Paltz desired him to do in 
every alternate service, Mr. Stone removed in 
the spring of 1793, into the valley of the Susque- 
hanna river, to the town of Jericho, (now Bain- 
bridge.) During the period of five years, he 
preached alternately in Jericho and the surround- 
ing towns of Delaware, Otsego, Chenango, and 



REV. WILLIAM STONE. 205 

Tioga counties, performing the duties of a mis- 
sionary with unremitting zeal and labor. 

The country was new and wild, and the 
fatigues and deprivations of the missionary great. 
Among the inhabitants of the forests between the 
Delaware and Susquehanna rivers, which he was 
often compelled to traverse, was the untameable 
panther, in rather unwelcome numbers. On one 
occasion the missionary was honored by the 
company of a panther for several miles, scream- 
ing in most unwelcome proximity. It was on 
his return from one of these missionary ex- 
cursions to the settlements on the Delaware, that 
an incident occurred illustrating the heroism of 
the woman whom he had chosen as his com- 
panion for hfe, and who yet survives — having 
been the participator of his labors, travels, and 
trials for more than half a century. There were 
in those days neither bridges nor boats upon that 
section of the Susquehanna, save a clumsy scow, 
at a distant ferry. The scattered settlers, there- 
fore, used canoes in their intercourse with each 
other across the river. During the absence of 
Mr. Stone, at the time referred to, which was at 
the close of winter, a sudden thaw had broken 
up the ice by which the stream had been fettered, 
; and the dissolving snow had swollen the always 
impetuous torrent to the full capacity of its 
banks. It was in this situation of the river, 
while its surface was bearing along the tumbling 
18 



i 



f1 



20G REV. WILLIAM STONE, 



masses of ice and pieces of broken timber, that 
the wife, from ihe (U)or of tl)eir habitation, 
situated upon the western side, saw lier husband 
ujMjii the opjM)site bank. With the aflection, and 
more tlian llie coura^jje of her sex, she proceeded 
to the river's brink, and with eyes open to the 
hazard she was encountering^, stepped into the 
canoe belonging to them, and boldly pushed 
forth into the angry stream. 

The weather had suddenly become cold, so 
tliat with every rise of the setting-pole, the water 
congealed to ice, while the canoe itself, by the 
force of the torrent, and the Hoes of ice, was 
hurried at times rapidly down the stream. Hut 
her courage and energy held out, and she safely 
crossed the Hood, landing at perhaps a mile 
below her point of departure. This incident is 
introduced, nut merely as a striking case of 
female intrepidity, but as serving as a faint illus- 
tration of the hardships encountered in border 
life. 

In the autumn of 1 797 Mr. Stone removed into the 
county of Otsego, and was the first Presbyterian 
clergyman there, west of Cooperstown. For ten 
years he labored in that county, chiefly in the i 
towns of Burlington, Ikitternuts, Pittsfield, Exeter, 
and Hartwick — preaching alternately to the dif- 
ferent churches. His fellow-laborer in those (at 
that time) wild settlements, was the Rev. Daniel 
Nash, (Father Nash, as he was called, and the 



REV. WILLIAM STONE. 207 

Rev. Mr. Grant of Cooper's ' Pioneers,') who was 
his kinsman, and cotemporary with him in college, 
though of the class preceding him. But he seem- 
ed almost as averse to the tide of civilization as 
Lcatherstockins^ himself; and encounterini? some 
parochial bad treatment, he again, in 1807, 
plunged into the wild woods of Salmon river, in the 
section of country now forming the northeastern 
part of the county of Oswego. Here, for seven 
or eight years more, he preached to the new set- 
tlements of Oneida and Jefferson counties. 

In the year 1817 he removed to the town of 
Junius, and thence, in 1819, to Sodus, on the 
south shore of Lake Ontario. During the years 
1818 and 1819, he was employed by the Albany 
Missionary Society, in the southwestern counties 
of this State, bordering upon Pennsylvania, and 
in 1820-21, by the Young Men's Missionary So- 
ciety of New York. His labors in that field 
were alike faithful and severe ; but a bodily in- 
firmity, arising from an accident some years be- 
fore, which occurred on the felling of a tree, ren- 
dered it impossible for him to continue his min- 
isterial labors, and the last eighteen years of his 
life were passed for the most part in seclusion. 
His last visit to the city of New York was in 
1823. 

Mr. Stone was an eccentric man. The ill 
treatment referred to above sank deep into his 
mind, and to a considerable extent soured it with 



208 BEV. WILLIAM STONE. 

the world — for which, indeed, or for its opinions, 
he unfortunately never cared enough. The coun- 
try has produced few better scholars in the lan- 
guages. But he used them only for his own ]»ri- 
vate gratification, occasionally by preparing a 
student for college, and once, for a season, when 
he was in charge of the formerly celebrated aca- 
demy at Fairfield, New York. lie was by na- 
ture a very proud man, but his pride was peculiar 
to himself, and utterly unlike that of any other 
man. And yet he possessed less of worldly am- 
bition than any other gentleman of education 
whom we have known. 

It seemed to be his great delight to crowd up- 
on the wildest border of civilization, and preach 
the gospel among the rudest people. But during 
all the changes of liis kcation, and the other vi- 
cissitudes of his life, there were two objects which 
he never forgot — his God and the classics. His 
daily habit, at least down to the month of Octo- 
ber preceding his death, when his health began 
more seriously to fail, was to study the Scriptures 
in the originals ; and with Homer, Xenophon, 
the Greek Testament, Horace, Juvenal, and Ci- f 
cero, not to forget the Hebrew Bible, he would 
set himself down in the most dreary spot in the 
world, "nor feel its idle whirl." His memory 
was truly wonderful. What he once read, he 
seemed ever to retain ; and the Avhole ransre of 
ancient and modern history, even to the minutiae, 



REV. WILLIAM STONE. 209 

with all the miscellaneous stories of voyages and 
travels, was ever at his command. His family- 
lectures or conversations upon these subjects, in 
the early years of the writer, were better than 
volumes of reading — while subsequent study, in 
years of greater maturity, has but served to test 
their accuracy. 

A more patriotic heart than his never throbbed 
in a human bosom. He loved his country, and 
its civil and religious institutions, above all price. 
But during the last ten years his mind was 
clouded with dark forebodings in regard to the 
stability of the great political edifice of wiiich 
Washington was the chief architect, and himself 
one of the humble builders. In the last letter he 
wrote, which was long, and expressed with un- 
common clearness, after adverting to the course 
of the present Administration, he concluded, " In- 
deed, I feel very anxious for the liberties and 
privileges of our dear country." 

During the last few years, his religious char- 
acter and affections were severely tried and 
highly refined, in the furnace of affliction. He 
had successively buried five of his children, three 
sons and two daughters, all between the ages of 
twenty and twenty-six. But he bowed submis- 
sively, and without a murmur. He felt the 
chastening rod, but saw also the hand that inflict- 
ed it, and, like Job, was ready to console himself 
by the reflection, " The Lord gave, and the Lord 

18* 



210 REV. WILLIAM STONE. 

hath taken away: blessed be the name of the 
Lord." His sickness was protracted for several 
weeks, but its whole course was marked by the 
most delightful manifestations of the Christian 
faith and character. To the inquiries of his 
dau<;hter, who watched his bedside till the last, if 
he had any fearful apprehensions of death, he 
said, shortly before he departed — " Not in the 
least ; all is calm. I believe the Saviour is jny 
Saviour — God's will be done." During the last 
three days of his life, his mind was clear and se- 
rene, and a mark of impatience was never mani- 
fested by him in his illness. 

At lentjth " the wheels of life stood still," and 
his spirit has gone to its rest. 

It is presumed that the public will excuse the 
perha})s seeming egotism of the foregoing rapid 
tribute of a son to the memory of a father, — but 
there was no other iiand to perform the ollice. 



211 



GOVERNOR WOLF. 

George Wolf was born on the 12th of August, 
1777, in Allen township, Northampton county, 
Pennsylvania. His father was a native of Ger- 
many, and a man justly and universally esteemed 
for his integrity. His son spent some years in 
the study of the Greek and Latin languages in a 
classical school in his native county, where he sub- 
sequently studied law, under the direction of 
Hon. John Ross. He was a zealous advocate 
for the election of President Jefferson, and in 
1814 was elected a member of the House of 
Representatives of Pennsylvania. In the years 
1824, 1826, and 1828, he was elected a member 
of Congress, the latter year by a very large 
majority, and the two former years without any 
opposition. In Congress he was distinguished 
for his habitual industry and attention to business, 
and while chairman of an important committee, 
he made numerous reports, evincing those powers 
of investigation and discrimination for which, it is 
conceded by all, he was remarkable. As a 
speaker, he was plain and argumentative, using 
good language, and conveying his ideas with 
great precision. He was known to be a decided 



212 GOVERNOR WOLF. 

friend of the American system and internal im- 
provements ; and the interests of education had 
at all times received from him a steady support. 
These qualities, added to the strictest integrity, 
had hecome so well known, and were so highly 
appreciated hy the people of Pennsylvania, tliat, 
in 1829, they elected Mr. Wolf Governor of the 
Commonwealth. So far from having heen an 
aspirant to this distinguished station, there is the 
best authority for saying that he w^as placed in 
nomination by the State Convention entirely 
without his knowledfje. He vielded to the 
wishes of the people, who had selected him for 
their chief magistrate, and, abandoning a lucrative 
practice in his profession, entered upon his olficial 
duties as Governor in the latter end of December, 
1829. He found the affairs of the State in an 
embarrassed condition, owing to the extensive 
scheme of internal improvement in which she had 
embarked, and for meeting the expenses of which 
suitable provision had not been made. But in 
this crisis of public allairs, as at all subsequent 
periods. Governor Wolf fallowed the impulses 
of a sound and enlightened judgment, and suc- 
ceeded in carrying the ship of state safely through 
her trying emergencies. 

Although Governor Wolf was a supporter of 
General Jackson, on each of the occasions when 
that individual was before the American people 
for the distinguished station of President of the 



GOVERNOR WOLF. 213 

United States, still there were some important 
measures of public policy in which he entertain- 
ed opinions somewhat at variance with those of 
the late President. Believing the United States 
Bank to possess a salutary influence in regulating 
the currency of the country, he approved and 
signed a resolution of the Pennsylvania Legislature, 
in favor of rechartering that institution. After 
the publication of General Jackson's celebrated 
veto, and during the progress of the electioneering 
campaign, some of the friends of the bank endea- 
vored to procure from the governor an expres- 
sion of opinion adverse to the re-election of Gene- 
ral Jackson. But Governor Wolf's opinion of 
the qualifications of Andrew Jackson for the 
Presidency, at that critical period of the history 
of the country, did not depend upon the views en- 
tertained by the General on the bank question. 
Under these circumstances, the friends of the 
bank in Pennsylvania united with the anti-ma- 
sonic and anti-improvement party, in opposing 
the re-election of Governor Wolf, which took place 
in the October preceding. Notwithstanding this 
procedure on the part of the friends of the bank, 
Governor Wolf, on his re-election, in his first 
message to the legislature, reiterated his opinions 
in favor of the United States Bank. It was re- 
marked by a member of the legislature, (an oppo- 
nent of the bank,) in reference to this high-minded 
and magnanimous proceeding, that " it added one 



214 GOVERNOR WOLF. 

more to the many evidences already before the 
people of Pennsylvania, that their afiairs were 
safely conlided to the care of a chief magistrate, 
whose exalted purity of motive and unflinching 
firmness, in the pursuit of what he believed to be 
right, placed him above the storm of party excite- 
ment, and beyond the reach of those iniluences 
which are too apt to agitate, and render unsteady 
in their purposes, the rest of mankind." 

At the last session of the legislature, during his 
gubernatorial term, numerous bills for the estab- 
lishment of banks throuijhout the State were un- 
der consideration, and several of them were 
passed and sent to him for his signature. But he 
made no scruple to exercise the veto power, re- 
posed in him by the constitution, whenever, in his 
judgement, the interests of the country required 
it. At different periods during the session, he re- 
turned, with his objections, three bills for the es- 
tablishment of banks, and one for withdrawing 
from the cognizance of the Supreme Court cer- 
tain claims for canal damages. On each of these 
occasions, attempts were made to procure the 
passage of the bills by the votes of two-thirds — 
the number required by the constitution to pass a 
law without the approbation of the governor. 
But so forcible were his arguments, and so abiding 
the confidence in his judgement and devotion to 
the public interests, that he was constantly sus- 
tained by a majority of the house in whicb the 



GOVERNOR WOLF. 215 

bills originated — that body, on receiving the go- 
vernor's objections, uniformly receding from the 
bills w^hich had previously received their sanc- 
tion. 

After Mr. Ritner's election as Governor of 
Pennsylvania, Mr. Wolf was appointed by the 
President of the United States, Collector of the 
Customs for the port of Philadelphia, and he con- 
tinued to discharge the duties of that office until 
his death, which occurred on the 14th of March, 
1840. On the morning of that day, as he was 
about to ascend the steps leading into the entrance 
of the Custom-House, to proceed to his duties, he 
was observed to falter in his gait, and to exhibit 
signs of a paroxysm. A chair was immediately 
brought him, in which he was removed within 
the Custom-House, where he almost instanta- 
neously sunk dead. It is presumed that the cause 
of this sudden and solemn death was an affection 
of the heart. 

In all his private relations he sustained an en- 
viable reputation ; and his political opponents, we 
beheve, never assailed his private character. 



216 



CAPTAIN JAMES RILEY. 

This well-known author of an interesting personal 
narrative was born in Middletown, Connecticut, 
on the 27th of October, 1777. He spent his early- 
youth in laboring upon a farm, enjoying no pri- 
vileges for the attainment of an education except 
such as were afforded by the Common School 
system of his native State, which at that time 
were exceedingly meagre. When fifteen years 
old he shij)pcd on board a sloop bound to the 
West Indies, and ever afterwards followed the 
seafaring business as his profession. He was 
soon appointed to the command of a vessel ; and, 
in 1808, being then captain of the Two Marys of 
New York, his ship was seized by the French 
while in the Bay of Biscay, and confiscated under 
the memorable ^Nlilan Decree of the 17th of De- 
cember, 1807. He remained for some time in 
France, and returned to his native country in 
1809. For some few years he was extremely 
unfortunate in his business, steadily refusing the 
most tempting offers, during the continuance of 
hostilities, to accept the command of vessels navi- 
gated, contrary to the laws of war, under foreign 



CAPTAIN JAMES RILEY. 217 

licenses. In April, 1815, he was employed as 
master and supercargo of the brig Commerce, of 
Hartford, and sailed for New Orleans. With 
great aifficulty he reached that port, and, after 
having exchanged his cargo, set sail for Gibraltar. 
Arriving there, he took on board a cargo of bran- 
dies and wines, and set sail for the Cape de Verd 
Islands, where he intended to complete the lading 
of the vessel with salt. In this voyage he was 
shipwrecked, and thrown upon the coast of Africa. 
For some eighteen months he was detained as a 
slave by the Arabs, clans of whom were canni- 
bals, where he endured almost incredible suffer- 
ings and hardships, in consequence of which, as 
he states in his narrative, he became reduced 
from his natural weight of about 240 to 60 pounds. 
He was finally ransomed by Mr. Wiltshire of 
Mogadore, and the ransom money for himself 
and his companions was afterwards paid by the 
United States, under the administration of James 
Monroe. 

Immediately after his return to this country 
he published a narrative of his sufferings and 
adventures, which disclosed such extraordinary 
perils, and apparently miraculous deliverances, 
that his statements at first obtained but little cre- 
dence, and the whole account was for some time 
regarded as a mere romance. Its details were* 
however, abundantly confirmed by subsequent 
accounts, and particularly by the corroborative 
19 



218 CAPTAIN JAME9 RILEY. 

testimony of Judah Paddock, who had been 
wrecked nearly in the same place, and suftcred 
severely amon^: the savan^es of that coast. After 
his return to this country, he resided for some 
years in Ohio ; and subsequently resorted again 
to his former employment, trading almost wholly 
at the port of Mogadore. 

Captain Riley in many respects was an extra- 
ordinary man ; he had a strong mind, great ener- 
gy and perseverance of character, not easily 
daunted by danger, was gratcllil to the last for 
the kindness shewn to him in adversity, and pos- 
sessed many excellent traits of character. His 
work, which may be considered an authentic de- 
tail, has had a wide circulation, and has always 
been considered a very interesting narrative. 

He died on the 15th of March, 1810, on board 
his brig the William Tell, bound to Morocco, in 
the 63d year of his age. 



219 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

"But Heaven forbid that a thief should die, 

Without his share of the laws!" 

Old Rhyme. 

" We have taken our pen in hand," as the primitive 
epistolary exordium hath it, to bring anew to the 
mind of the reader his old, unforgotten enter- 
tainer, Stephen Burroughs. Burroughs ! To us, 
at least, there is magic in the name. Memory 
awakens at its mention, and goes back with 
untiring step to the days of boyhood, when 
Sinbad, Robinson Crusoe, and Stephen Burroughs 
were triumvirate aspirants for the meed of our 
juvenile approbation. Truth spoke like fiction — 
fiction plead like truth — and Burroughs bore 
away the palm ! But those days were brief. 
We lived to learn that Sinbad was but an idle 
whim, and that Robinson Crusoe was an over- 
drawn tale, fraught with more fancy than fact : 
but of the veritable story of the renowned deeds 
of the " great unhung," we may say with the 
bard, 

" 'Tis true, 'tis pity — pity 'tis 'tis true !'* 
There was one thing about the volume of 



220 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

Stephen which our juvenile philosophy could not 
fathom, and that was the motto of the title-page : 

♦' When such sad scenes the bosom pain, 
What eye from weeping can refrain ?" 

For our own part, we thought the scenes any- 
thing but sad. They were all full of fun, and 
the measure was by no means stinted. 'Tis true 
that now and then a frosty chain would press 
gallingly upon the leg of the hero : but what of 
that ? He had his fun in getting into the scrape, 
and he would have his sport in getting out. 
Why should our bosom be pained when the ad- 
venturer himself seemed to enjoy his " scenes" 
so lovingly ? Then, as to " weeping," — this ap- 
peared utterly out of the question. Our nature 
was as lachrymose as generally falls to the lot 
of boyhood. But we found in the adventures of 
Stephen no claim upon the fountain of pity. 
Our ribs were oftener sufferers than our "eyes." 
Thus much for our boyish experience ! Now we 
find ourself with the old book again in hand, and 
may perchance do better justice to its merits. 

Stephen Burroughs was the son of a clergy- 
man of Hanover, in the State of New Hampshire. 
From such paternity, one would naturally look 
for a corresponding character in the son. But 
such things go at times, as dreams are said to 
do, by contraries. Often, too often, will children 



i 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 221 

"bring down the gray hairs of parents with 
sorrow to the grave." The subject of our 
sketch complains of too great rigidity in his 
parental education. There may be truth and 
propriety in the complaint. Discipline overdone, 
is worse, sometimes, than no discipline at all. 
The mind of the young, as has been frequently 
remarked, resembles the pliant and flexible bow. 
It yields easily to influence — still more readily to 
authority. But one must be careful how he 
exercises his authority. Let him remember he 
cannot always retain it. If he impose too severe 
restraint, if he strain the mind of his child or 
pupil to its utmost tension, as the released bow 
flies to an opposite direction, so he will see with 
pain the tender subject of his cares and anxieties 
rush with fatal eagerness to an opposite extreme 
of vice and folly. 

Be this fact as it may in relation to the present, 
subject, we find young Burroughs, even in his 
early boyhood, impatient of control, and imbued 
with an indomitable love of mischief. This he 
gratified on every possible occasion — not ap- 
parently from a desire to do injury, (for cruelty 
seems to have formed no constituent in his 
character,) but from the merriment he derived 
from the ingenuity of its execution, and the often 
incomparable drollery of the denouement. Of 
course, this in no way tended to his personal 

19* 



222 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

popularity in the neighborhood, and often drew 
down upon him a merited punishment. 

Like most wild-brained youth, Burroughs 
seems to have been possessed of a good degree 
of romantic fervor ; and this having been 
nourished and increased by a due amount of 
most injudicious novel-reading, at length assumed 
a military turn. Consequently, his first ad- 
venture was in character with his propensity. 
During the year 1779, at the age of 14, he ran 
away from home, and joined a company of con- 
tinental soldiers. He was twice brought back 
by the strong arm of parental authority ; but he 
finally efibcted his escape, and joined the com- 
pany again, armed and equipped with clothes, 
blankets, bread and cheese, and an old musket, 
long guihless of breaking the peace. He ac- 
companied the soldiers to head-quarters : but 
finding that military glory was not what it had 
appeared to his ardent fancy, he took French 
leave of his warlike friends, and returned to his 
father's house. 

Satisfied with his military achievements, the 
hero entered upon a new scene, determined to 
win spoils from the classic field. He was placed 
by his father at a school in Coventry, Con- 
necticut, under the care of the Rev. Dr. Hunting- 
ton. O rare devotee of learning ! The studies 
of his persevering assiduity are as fresh in 
memory as if we had perused them but yester- 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 223 

day. We can see the identical apple-orchard 
and water-melon patch, where he paid his noc- 
turnal devoirs. We can hear the crash of the 
tumbling wood, as the unfortunate owner opened 
the door, against which it had been piled. We 
can see the young rascal scampering at the 
farmer's approach, until he had decoyed him to 
a filthy ditch. Here the wily student suddenly 
falls, and away goes the hurrying boor, heels- 
over-head into the slough, carrying away, how- 
ever, one of Stephen's coat-skirts. Then what a 
figure the scholastic youth must have cut on the 
following day, robbed of one of his flowing 
honors, exhibiting himself in detail to his quizzing 
companions ! Such devoted labors of course 
were rapidly preparing him for college. And 
when he had further qualified himself by other 
such like exploits, and concluded by appro- 
priating to himself the free use of a neighbor's 
horse, without saddle or bridle, by which oper- 
ation the condition of the quadruped was in no way 
improved, and by which operation the condition 
of the biped was materially injured, by exposure, 
prosecution, and reasonable damages, his afiec- 
tionate instructor despatched him to his father, 
as duly qualified to enter upon a higher depart- 
ment of study. 

At the following Commencement of Dartmouth 
College, in the year 1781, Burroughs presented 
himself for examination, and was admitted. His 



224 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

collegiate course could easily be anticipated. 
" The twig" was already " bent" — it would re- 
quire no shrewd foresight to determine the 
inclination of " the tree." His reputation had 
gone before him, and the eyes of the " faculty" 
were fixed searchingly upon him at his first en- 
trance. But, however accustomed the learned 
magistrates were to deal with rogues, they had 
their master in Burroughs for a time. He suc- 
ceeded entirely in some pranks, and, among 
others, in getting the whole town aroused at an 
alarm of Indian spies. The " spies" were no 
other than Burroughs and a companion, return- 
ing from some usual water-melon appointment. 
The alarm spread — the militia turned out — and 
among the foremost in the investigation was the 
honest author of the confusion. The affair was 
" blown," however, and its perpetrator saved 
himself from college censure only by stealing a 
march on his professors, and paying for the 
stolen fruit before he could be arraigned before 
the bar of college authority. His rogueries at 
last became an annoyance to himself. " A Har 
is not to be believed," says an old and wholesome 
adage, " even when he speaks the truth :" and 
Burroughs found the practical application of the 
principle far from agreeable. So celebrated had 
his name become for all mischief, that suspicion 
was in advance of him. And at last, wearied 
with the rigid surveillance of those in authority 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 225 

over him, he grew tired of college life, and with 
his classic laurels thick about him, he returned 
once more to his paternal roof. 

After refreshing himself from his late toils by a 
suitable repose, Burroughs now looked about him 
to choose some scene for action in the great thea- 
tre of the world. As the army had at first at- 
tracted his attention, it is not a matter of wonder 
that the sea should have presented the next 
claim. Accordingly, we find him at the age of 
17, fitted with all necessary appliances, and bend- 
ing his course toward Newburyport, Massachu- 
setts. Here he succeeded in obtaining a berth as 
physician, on board a packet, having a letter of 
marque to France. The voyage was not unat- 
tended with incidents. The packet captured a 
brig from New York, bound to London, which 
proved a rich prize. When she had nearly 
gained her destined port, she fell in with an Eng- 
Hsh vessel, carrying 18 guns, which evinced a 
decided disinclination to become a prize. A 
severe fight ensued, in which many lives were 
lost on either side, and much injury sustained by 
the vessels. It was terminated by the retreat of 
the Englishman, and soon after the packet reach- 
ed France in safety. 

From his share of the prize-money, the " doc- 
tor" was enabled to spend a few weeks in travel- 
ling. His " trip" was a brief one, and in a few 
weeks he was again on the sea, homeward-bound. 



226 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

An alteration had taken place in the board of ad- 
ministration of the floating empire. A man had 
been promoted to the office of first-mate whose 
advancement the " doctor" had endeavored to 
prevent. The opposition was fruitless, and the 
result very unfavorable to Burroughs' situation. 
The mate commenced a series of petty annoy- 
ances, greatly to the detriment of his antagonist 
He was ordered to leave the cabin : and after- 
ward, while recovering from a serious attack of 
sickness, on some accusation of petty theft, poor 
Burroughs was thrown into irons. When the 
vessel reached Ncwburyport, and while our ad- 
venturer was preparing to demand a legal inves- 
tigation of his treatment, he was arrested in the 
street, and carried before a justice of the peace. 
Here he found as his accuser his old friend the 
mate, aided by one or two colleagues, prepared to 
prosecute the old charge of misdemeanor at sea. 
It appears to have been true that a theft had been 
committed on board the vessel. But the mate 
seems to have known more about it than any one 
else, and to have found it particularly convenient 
to charge it upon Burroughs, both to screen him- 
self and to gratify his malice for the afl^ront 
already mentioned. The charge was sustained 
to the satisfaction of the judge, and our adven- 
turer was committed to jail. Here he remained 
for a time, and was discharged in a manner en- 
tirely unaccountable. He was without friends, 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 227 

and without money, whereby he might call his 
persecutors to legal retribution ; and again, sa- 
tiated with the sea, he returned to his father's 
board. 

After a twelvemonth's recruit, Burroughs next 
determined to enter upon the duties of school- 
teaching. He doubtless thought that instruction 
and discipline had both proved so salutary in his 
own case, that he was peculiarly qualified to im- 
part their blessings to the rising generation. 
However this may have been, he made an en- 
gagement to teach a school in a town some thirty 
miles distant from his native place. Through the 
kind offices of an affectionate college officer, who 
retained an old grudge against him, the citizens 
became dissatisfied with him, and Burroughs 
quitted them and his school. He soon outwitted 
his professor, as he had too often done before, 
and engaged a school in another place, where he 
established himself well before his good friend 
could attempt his removal. Consequently he was 
enabled to fulfil his contract in peace. While 
engaged here, he became a victim of that potent 
power which 

'* rules the court, the camp, the grove !" 

He became enamoured of a lady fair, " supposed 
to be a widow." But " the course of true love," 
which the poet assures us is wont to flow roughly, 



228 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

seemed ill-disposed to change its character for 
Mr. Burroughs. When the affections of the fair 
widow were supposed to be fairly won, her lover, 
upon an occasion, was greeted by the unwelcome 
sight of her " lord and master," having returned 
to claim his long-parted wife. It was a terrible 
blow for the sighing lover : but like most swains 
similarly circumstanced, he survived. 

Our adventurer soon found himself again upon 
the world, possessed of the sum total of one whole 
pistareen in cash. He reflected rapidly upon 
every calling which generally engaged the atten- 
tion of men, and then determined upon that which 
one would naturally suppose would have been 
the last to enter his mind. Good reader, as you 
are probably already well aware, the conscien- 
tious Mr. Burroughs determined to preach ! 

We remember to have read of a similar character 
who once entertained similar predilections for 
clerical employments : 

•'When the de'il was sick, the de'il a monk would be ;" 

— but the motives which actuated this personage 
were far more honorable than those to which Mr. 
Burroughs laid claim. He seems himself to 
have entertained a pretty just estimate of his 
clerical qualities, and we will cite his own au- 
thority. 

" Preach ? A pretty fellow am I for a preach- 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 229 

er ! A pretty character mine, to tickle the ears of 
a grave audience ! Run away from my own home 
for being connected in robbing a bee-house, and 
for my attention to a married woman ; having been 
through scenes of tumult, during my whole career, 
since I have exhibited on the active stage of life. 
Besides all this, what an appearance should I make 
in my present dress ? — which consisted of a light 
grey coat, with silver plated buttons, green vest, 
and red velvet breeches. This, said I, is a curious 
dress for me to offer myself in, as a preacher ; 
and I am by no means able to obtain a different 
suit." 

Lest any may wonder why he should contem- 
plate the literary duties of his new profession 
with complacency, let us state that the rascal 
had a respectable stock of his father's old ser- 
mons in his possession. This matter alters the 
case. He was confident that if he could be ad- 
mitted without suspicion into any pulpit, he could 
discharge the duties thereof with becoming- 
credit. Despite the disadvantages of his dress, 
he resolved upon the course. The peculiar 
organization of the Congregational church around 
him favored the scheme. And if other churches, 
more carefully guarded, have been often imposed 
upon by the grossest pretenders, it cannot be 
matter of wonder if Burroughs should have 
succeeded in gaining a clerical repute in the 
Congregational church of New England. 

20 



230 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

The debut of the so-called Rev. Mr. Davi^, 
was made at the town of Ludlow, Massachusetts. 
He preached here but once, and thence, upon 
recommendation of a clergyman whom he con- 
sulted, he departed to the primitive town of 
Pelham, in the same State. In this place, he met 
with immediate employment in his new vocation. 
For a time, all went smoothly. But, at last, it 
became matter of wonder how he could alwavs 
be so promptly prepared with discourses as he 
ever appeared to be, both upon ordinary and 
extraordinary occasions. On one of these occa- 
sions, when preaching in a small room, his 
" notes" were discovered to be more ancient 
than the years of the preacher would seem to 
warrant. The information spread, and dissatis- 
faction prevailed. He was suspected of retailing 
to his hearers stolen treasures. At last, a plan 
was devised which would put Mr. Davis' ser- 
monizing abilities to an effectual test. It was 
thought by the jealous hearers, that if he could 
preach during the day from a text which should 
be given him in the morning, it would furnish 
satisfactory proof of his "powers," and they 
would then cease to marvel at his being always 
so promptly prepared. He was accordingly 
waited upon on a certain Sunday morning, and 
desired to discourse from the first clause of the 
5th verse of the 9th chapter of Joshua. It was 
a strange text, surely, and ingeniously did Mr 



, STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 231 

Davis handle it. The people were satisfied, and 
all went quietly again for a time. 

It would be morally impossible for any man, 
how unblemished soever his character, to main- 
tain himself long undiscovered in a situation like 
that which Burroughs now held, especially so 
when within two hundred miles of his old home, 
and the scenes of so many wild exploits. Two 
or three times had his path been crossed by un- 
welcome intruders. At length, when absent a 
few miles distant from his parish, he met a clergy- 
man, at the house of a friend, who was well 
known to him. The clergyman called him by 
his true name. The Rev. Mr. Davis corrected 
the mistake. But the clergyman would allow no 
correction : he knew his man. Burroughs rojde 
off " highly indignant," and returned to Pelham. 
As he rode on, he began to concert measures to 
meet the gathering storm, or rather to avoid it. 
He knew the violent character of the people 
among whom he was sojourning too well to risk 
bis person among them when his true character 
should become known. Although he was in- 
debted to them for one more Sunday's services, 
he sought the house of a friend, and there lay in 
secure concealment. The result we will give in 
his own words : 

" The next morning, Mr. Davis was not to be 
found. My landlord was almost frantic with sur- 
prise and grief. The town was alarmed, and sud- 



232 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. « 

dcniy was all in a flame. About 11 o'clock, p. m. 
a man came from Belchcrtown, with information 
respecting the character who had been exhibiting 
among them as a preacher. This blew the flame 
into a tenfold rage. iVo pen can describe the up- 
roar there was in the town of Pelham. They 
mounted hue and cries after me in every direction, 
with orders to spare not horse-flesh. They per- 
ambulated the town, and anxiously asked every 
one for some circumstance which would lead to a 
discovery where I was. All this took place whilst 
I lay snug in the corner, observing their operations, 
la iiolding a consultation upon these disagreeable 
matters, every one was anxious to clear himself 
of being the dupe to my artifice, as much as pos- 
sible. ' I never liked him,* says one. ' I always 
thought there was something suspicious about 
him,' says another. * He ever had a very de- 
ceitful look,' says a third. In fine, it had come 
to this, that not one now could discern any thing 
which ever appeared good or commendable about 
me, except one good old lady, who said, ' Well, 
I hope they will catch him, and bring him back 
among us, and we will make him a good man, 
and keep him for our preacher.' 

" You may with propriety ask me, what the 
people of Pelham expected they could do, should 
they overtake me in their pursuit ? I know the 
question will naturally arise ; but I cannot give 
you an answer, for I do not know their intentions 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 233 

or expectations. Perhaps they thought, for they 
were a people very ignorant, that I had broken 
the laws of the land, to the same amount as I had 
offended them. About 12 o'clock the night fol- 
lowing, I took my leave of Lysander, promising to 
return and see him again, as*soon as the tumult 
was hushed." 

The discomfited Mr. Davis reached the house 
of his friend in Rutland, Massachusetts. But his 
flight had not been unperceived. We will allow 
him again, however, to tell his own story, as he 
does it with more ability than we could pretend 
to do. 

"After I had taken some refreshment, and put 
out my horse, I w^ent into his counting-room, to 
have some further conversation on the subject of 
my business. Whilst I was leaning my elbow 
out at the window, I turned my eyes at the sudden 
and violent trampling of horses, and saw a large 
number of people from Pelham after me. Seeing 
so many, and they riding with such fury, gave 
me a sudden impulse of fear, and I thought to 
elude them by flight ; I therefore sprang out of my 
chair, and ran across the shop, in order to go out 
at the back door ; but no sooner had I arrived 
there, than I was met by one Konkey, who at- 
tempted to seize me. This aroused my indignation, 
and with my walking-staff, I gave him a blow 
across the right arm, which broke it. Having by 
this mean made myself a passage, I ran round the 

20* 



284 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

end of the shop, which I supposed would be most 
out of sight ; but when 1 turned the corner, I met, 
full in the face, two of my deacons. I then turned 
and ran about twenty rods, down a small hill, and 
the Pelhamites all after me, hallooing with all their 
might, * Stop him ! stop him !' To be pursued 
thus like a thief, an object of universal speculation 
to the inhabitants of Rutland, gave mc very dis- 
agreeable sensations which I was determined not 
to bear. I therefore stopped, took up a stone, 
and declared that the first who should approach 
me 1 would kill on the spot. They were very 
credulous in stories of the devil, witches, &c. and 
now thought the devil had appeared in human 
shape, ready to destroy them. They all stopped ; 
amazement being pictured on their countenances, 
except one Hind. This man valued himself much 
on his dexterity, and in order to shew his superior 
ability, advanced alone, till he came within my 
reach; when, with a single stroke of my stone, I 
tumbled him to the ground, apparently a lifeless 
corpse. Seeing a large number of people begin- 
ning to collect and come towards me, I moved 
on about two rods in front of the Pelhamites, and 
tliey after me. I told them in the most decided 
manner, that instant destruction should be their 
portion, if they attempted to approach any nearer. 
They believed, and kept their distance, till coming 
to a barn, which had only one small door, I went 
in, determined to defend the door, which I expected 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 235 

to be able to do, on account of its advantageous 
situation. After I had entered the barn, I found 
there a situation, which pleased me much better, 
viz. the hay-mow, there being only one place by 
which it was possible to ascend it, therefore when I 
was on the top of this hay-mow, I could keep off 
any number of men that should attack me. I ac- 
cordingly seized this stronghold with despatch, 
mounted my fortress, and carried with me a scythe- 
snath, as a weapon of defence to keep off the as- 
sailants. When the Pelhamites saw, through the 
crannies of the barn, where I had taken my station, 
they ventured to come in, together with a number 
of the inhabitants." 

" What a situation for an ecclesiastic !" ex- 
claims the celebrated Laurence Sterne, when 
describing a scene by no means becoming such 
a character. "What a situation for an eccle- 
siastic !" might the redoubtable Mr. Davis, with 
more truth, exclaim. The Pelhamites found that 
though they had " treed" their game, they had by 
no means caught it. At this crisis, a citizen of 
Rutland came forward as Mr. Burroughs' de- 
fender, while the Pelham question was defended 
by Deacon McMulIen. After a long discussion, 
it was agreed to adjourn to the tavern hard by, 
and settle the quarrel amicably at the bar. This 
was a kind of satisfaction which it seems pecu- 
liarly suited the perturbed Pelhamites. Thither 
all repaired, and matters were progressing 



236 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

toward a harmonious adjustment, when the afore- 
said Hind came in, foaming with rage for the 
injury he had received in the recent encounter. 
This circumstance changed the aspect of affairs. 
Some seemed bent on carrying Burroughs forci- 
bly back to Pelham. He consequently beat a 
retreat to a room above, and locked himself in. 
They came to his door, and, finding it locked, 
sent for an axe, to break it open. Hearing this, 
Burroughs leaped from his window upon a shed, 
and from that to the ground, in the midst of the 
very men who were procuring the axe. He 
says : 

" Coming so suddenly among them, they had not 
time to recollect themselves, so as to know what 
this meant, till I had run the distance of twenty 
rods, when they started after me ; but one of 
their number much exceeded the rest in swiftness, 
so that in running sixty rods, he was twenty rods 
before the others. By this time I was out of 
breath by running, and coming to a high wall, 
made of small stones, I jumped over it, and sat 
down behind it by a tree standing against the wall. 
I took a stone in my hand as I went over, intend- 
inir to knock down the foremost man when he 
came up to me, which I supposed would be easy 
to do, as I should take him by surprise, and ex- 
ecute my plan before he could defend himself. 
After this should be performed, I could easily out- 
run the rest, as I should by this time be rested, 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 237 

and be forward of them. An alder swamp, about 
half a mile distant, was my object. 

" When the foremost man came up to the wall, 
I heard him panting and puffing for breath, and 
instead of being able to leap over, he ran against 
it, and threw it down in such a manner as to 
cover me almost entirely from sight; the stones 
faUing against the tree in such a manner as to do 
me no injury. The man ran through the breach 
of the wall, and continued his course about fifteen 
rods beyond me, and stopped till the others came 
up, who anxiously inquired what had become of 
Burroughs ? The others replied, that he had run 
like a deer across the meadow, and gone into the 
alder swamp. 

" They concluded it was in vain to follow me 
— gave up the chase — went back to the tavern 
— took a little more satisfaction, and returned to 
Pelham." 

But we have lingered quite too long upon 
these " scenes." We must despatch the remain- 
der with more brevity. 

One would naturally suppose that his past 
experience would have satisfied Burroughs with 
his clerical character. But the fact was other- 
wise. He went directly to Rhode Island, and 
there made a short engagement. Soon after, he 
made a visit to Pelham again, to see an old 
friend, (as he was on his way to Danbury, 



338 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

Connecticut, to fulfil a professional engagement,) 
and here 

" A change came o'er the spirit of his dream." 

The friend whom Burroughs now visited, (and 
at whose house he had taken refuge when the 
storm first arose at Pelham,) had discovered a 
" royal road to wealth," as he imagined, by the 
" transmuting of metals," whereby copper could 
be readily converted into silver. He was im- 
posed upon by an artful knave, and effectually 
duped. As a great favor, the friend had let 
Burroughs into his secret, and the two, even in 
the palmy days of Mr. Davis' clerical reputation, 
had planned a scheme for carrying on the busi- 
ness to an extent which promised to enrich both 
adventurers. In justice to both, let it be said, 
they were duped : and silly as they may appear 
in their delusion now, were entirely honest in 
their scheme. It was upon this business, in part, 
that Burroughs now sought his friend. He 
found him crest-fallen. He had discovered his 
blunder. The transmuter had fled, giving a 
proof of his power by a successful experiment 
upon the coin of his victims ; and with its origi- 
nator had fled too all hope of speedy wealth. 
But in place of the exploded project, the friend 
informed Burroughs that he had hit upon another 
scheme which promised nearly as good success. 
This was no less than a plan for counterfeiting 



I 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 239 

silver dollars. Burroughs was startled at the 
plan, and opposed it. The friend was sanguine, 
and produced some of the coin, the work 
of a notorious counterfeiter. Burroughs argued 
against the honesty of the pursuit. The friend 
replied, with an argument which would have 
done credit to the philosophy of Paul Clifford. 
Burroughs wavered in his moral firmness. But 
the wife of his friend came in to his aid, with 
tears and persuasive entreaties. At length the 
friend yielded to the argument of honesty, but 
pleaded necessity for disposing at Springfield of a 
small quantity of the coin which he had already 
received, in exchange for certain articles neces- 
sary for carrying on further operations. To this 
he had pledged himself to those associated with 
him, and he felt that he could not in honor re- 
tract. Burroughs, in the exigency of the case, 
fearing the ruin of his friend and his family, with 
Quixotic benevolence offered to undertake the 
business and obtain the articles. He did so — 
went to Springfield — and ere he could leave the 
place, was arrested and committed to prison for 
" passing counterfeit money." 

The rash adventurer now experienced the dis- 
advantages of his former course. His reputation 
had a very unfavorable effect upon the popular 
mind, far from conciliating that good will of 
which he so much stood in need. The trial 
came on. He was found guilty, and sentenced 



I 

240 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

to Stand one hour in the pillory, and remain three 
years confined to the House of Correction. As 
the jail in Springfield was thought to be too inse- 
cure for such a prisoner, he was removed to 
Northampton, and consigned to his gloomy abode. 
He was soon joined by companions in guilt. It 
was not long before the active mind of the cap- 
tive was at work to regain his liberty. But his 
evil genius seemed to have deserted him. He 
was detected, punished, and secured by massive 
chains. The uncalled for harshness of his treat- 
ment drove him to madness, and he attempted to 
burn the jail, and perish amid the ruins. But 
again he was defeated. The flames were extin- 
guished, and the captive received for compensa- 
tion a most cruel flogging, and, after being hand- 
cuflcd and })inioncd, was chained to the floor ot 
his dun!,'eon. This was in the dead of winter. 
He was denied fiic, and even refused straw to lie 
upon. In addition to this sufiering without, the 
fangs of hunger were gnawing him within. In 
this situation he was doomed to remain for a 
number of weeks. He was wasted to a mere 
skeleton, and at last ardently wished for death to 
terminate his excruciating woes. At length, 
when the springs of life were almost worn out, 
and life itself was fast sinking to its close, a kinsman 
visited him. He supplied him with money, and 
at sight of the magic treasure the jailor's wife be- 
came an " angel of mercy." 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 241 

It seemed to be a matter of conscience with 
Burroughs, (if he had any such thing as con- 
science, which we doubt,) not to learn wisdom 
by experience. No sooner was he recovered 
from his late sufferings, than he turned his atten- 
tion anew to an escape. This he would now 
have effected, had there been no unfair play with- 
in his fortress. But the principle of " honor among 
thieves," however it may have obtained among 
other like communities, found no practical exem- 
plification in the Northampton jail. Guarded 
without and watched within, he was circumvent- 
ed in every attempt, and each one only served to 
make his condition worse. 

At length, all the prisoners who had been sen- 
tenced to the House of Correction were removed 
to Castle Island, then a military station, in Boston 
harbor. The island was well garrisoned, and the 
prisoners closely guarded, but Burroughs did not 
despair of escape. He alone of all the prisoners 
was permitted to remain in his " palace" during 
the day, while the others were at their labor. 
The time did not pass unimproved by him, and il 
was not long before, on a rainy night, all the 
prisoners sallied forth, surprised the sentry, 
seized a boat, and were off. Owing to the im- 
prudence, of some of the company, all were again 
arrested and brought back to punishment and 
servitude. 

It was now thought best that the rogue should 
21 



242 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

be put to labor. This proved too severe a task 
upon his mental abilities. Notwithstanding his 
ready wit at every thing else, he could not com- 
prehend the sublime and occult mysteries of nail- 
manufacture. Despite all his efforts, he never 
could construct more than five perfect nails in a 
day, and his teachers finally gave him over as a 
stupid pupil. Yet once more was his restless 
mind active in search of some new method for 
the liberation of himself and his fellow-prisoners. 
He was not long in conceiving a plan ; and a 
masterly one it was, which reflected credit upon 
his wisdom and courage. An armed guard 
always escorted the prisoners at day-break to 
their labor. The rest of the soldiers remained in 
the garrison, at a short distance from the prison. 
The keeper was accustomed to give his prisoners 
a call, some few minutes before the time of their 
" turning out." The plan of Burroughs, in this 
state of things, was this. He divided the prison- 
ers into two companies, believing all to possess 
the courage which distinguished himself Of one 
of these bands he proposed to take command. 
The other he gave in charge to one Phillips, of 
whose valor he had a high opinion. It was con- 
certed, that as soon as the first call was given in 
the morning, and the keeper had departed, at a 
given signal. Burroughs, with his party, would 
surprise the guard in waiting for the prisoners, 
and disarm them by superior numbers, while 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 243 

Phillips, with the other party, should rush to the 
garrison, and surprise it ere the soldiers were 
well upon duty. These two points effected, no 
difficulty would remain to secure the cannon, and 
other defences, and thus not only command the 
island, but the whole of Boston harbor. At the 
time appointed, all were in readiness, and, at the 
signal. Burroughs rushed to the charge. He 
surprised the sentries, disarmed two, reached the 
guard-house, and ordered the soldiers to lay down 
their arms. He was obeyed. But on looking 
round for his bold troops, not one could be seen. 
The cowardly villains had all deserted him, and 
the other leader had crawled back to his bed. 
By this time the alarm had been given, and it is 
not a matter of marvel if the united garrison suc- 
ceeded in capturing their one assailant. He had 
played a fearful game at a desperate stake, and 
that too with a courage worthy a better cause. 
Bat his game was fatal, and dire indeed was his 
punishment. 

Burroughs now relinquished all ideas of escape, 
and offered to compromise with the commander, 
promising to remain quiet if the liberties of the 
island might be allowed him. Strange as it may 
seem — and it shows the difficult charge which 
the prisoner had proved — his proposal was ac- 
ceded to. Burroughs was again in partial comfort, 
and offered his kind protectors no more annoy- 
ance. The day of liberation at last arrived, 



244 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

and the captive once more breathed the air of 
freedom. 

For two or three years, Burroughs conducted 
with great propriety. He married, and saw a 
family rising around him. But he was again 
dragged to the bar of justice for a crime of which 
he was in part guilty, if not of the full terms of 
the indictment. His sentence was a severe one ; 
and when he had received a part of his punish- 
ment, he gave his friends " a receipt in full of all 
demands," and disappeared. Again he conducted 
for a time, in a State not far distant, with credit 
to himself and frientls. But after a very few 
years he removed to Canada, and from thence- 
forward, until near the time of his death, we 
know his conduct only by the voice of rumor. 
This spoke any thing but creditably of him. He 
w^as reported to have been extensively engaged 
in counterfeiting bills on banks of the United 
States, and to have practised crime with a high 
hand, unwhipt of justice. His memoirs, written 
by himself, have been extensively circulated. 
Edition after edition have been published in this 
country, and one has appeared in England, em- 
bellished, we believe, by Cruikshank. Burroughs 
died at a place called " Three Rivers," in Lower 
Canada, on the 28th of January, 1840. Report 
speaks of a moral reform toward the close of his 
life. Of this we are skeptical : still we do not 



STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 245 

know it to be untrue, and give him the benefit of 
the " rumor." He had been, for some time be- 
fore his death, we beUeve, engaged in his old 
profession of teaching, and had conducted with 
propriety. But what a miserable fragment this, 
to offset against a life of crime ! 

The book which Burroughs has left of his 
course of life can do no hurt — at least, to those 
whose minds are mature, and whose judgments 
are ripened. It may be read with profit. We 
can imagine no man, of whatever class, but may 
peruse it with advantage. There are things in it 
to laugh at : but one will become serious ere its 
close. He will find it a melancholy guide-book, 
warning off from every vice and crime with the 
mournful exclamation, " This way danger lies /" 

Throughout his whole book. Burroughs com- 
plains of the prejudice of the community which 
existed everywhere against him, from matters of 
a personal nature. That prejudice now no longer 
exists. Men can form a true opinion of the 
author and actor, unbiassed by popular prejudice. 
But the verdict which the public will form upon 
the character of Burroughs will be a severe one. 
To say he has lived in vain, would be too light 
a conclusion. His boyhood was given to folly — 
his manhood to crime ! With talents and advan- 
tages which might have rendered him an orna- 
ment to society, he became its disgrace : with 

21* 



246 STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 

more " appliances and means to boot," than most 
possess, to become the benefactor of mankhid, 
he proved their pest ! And, in short, his whole 
career furnishes a mournful proof of the truth of 
a celebrated remark of Dr. Young, that "with 
the talents of an angel a man may be a fool !" 



% 



247 



JOHN HELM. 

The subject of this sketch, a pioneer of the West, 
and a soldier in the Indian wars growing out of 
the settlement of Kentucky, was born on the 29th 
of November, 1761, in Prince William county, 
Virginia. He was the eldest child of Thomas 
Helm, who landed with his family at the Falls of 
the Ohio, now Louisville, in March, 1780. To- 
wards the close of the year he looked out for a 
new location, and commenced a settlement near 
where Elizabethtown now stands. Early in the 
following year he removed his whole family to 
that place, and built what was called a fort, where 
he continued to reside until he died, at an ad- 
vanced age. 

John Helm oame to Kentucky in the fall be- 
fore his father, when about 19 years of age. For 
those times he was well educated for a practical 
surveyor. He was of small stature, and not re- 
markable for either strength or activity, the qual- 
ities that most adorned the forest gentlemen of 
that day; but, possessing a firm, good constitution, 
with great steadiness of purpose and habits, he 
was enabled to perform the most astonishing la- 
bor, and to endure the greatest sufferings. The 



248 JOHN HELM. 

qualities of his mind were well suited to his busi- 
ness, possessing in a superior degree a sound and 
discriminating judgment, united with patient and 
untiring investigation and personal bravery. On 
reaching Kentucky, he immediately commenced 
the dangerous occupation of locating and survey- 
ing land, for which he had been educated. 

His first trip was, perhaps, his most unfortu- 
nate ; having formed the usual company for sur- 
veyors in those times, he commenced operations 
not far from Salt river, accompanied by William 
Johnson, the father of Dr. Johnson, of Louisville, 
for whom he was then surveying, A company 
of Indians having discovered them, and knowing 
their business, waylaid them while they were 
engaged in the active employment of running a 
line. The Indians, squatting in the small cane 
through which they had to pass, as they came up, 
fired, and rising at the same moment, rushed 
upon them with their usual terrific yell. Mr. 
Helm being a little in advance, was in the midst 
of the Indians at the moment of the attack. 
The Indians, considering him as their captive, 
turned their attention to those in the rear. He 
used the fortunate moment, and passing through 
them made his escape — the others were killed or 
taken prisoners. Among the latter was William 
Johnson ; and Mr. Helm alone returned to tell 
the sad news that all was lost. 

In 1791, he went out on St. Clair's campaign 



JOHN HELM. 249 

as a common soldier, but his capacity for business 
and superior education were qualities more un- 
common in those days than at present, and could 
not be long overlooked. He performed all, or 
nearly all, the duties appertaining to the staff offi- 
cers in Col. Oldham's regiment of Kentucky mili- 
tia, which formed one division of St. Clair's 
army. The regular troops formed the other 
division. 

Both Col. Oldham and Mr. Helm were greatly 
dissatisfied with St. Clair's disposition of the 
army the night before the fatal battle, and ear- 
nestly remonstrated with him, but to no purpose. 

In the early part of the action. Col. Oldham 
was killed and his division routed. While en- 
gaged in preparing for a retreat, Mr. Helm was 
severely wounded, and his eftbrts wholly frus- 
trated. 

Seeing death or escape the only alternative, 
and being surrounded by the enemy on every side, 
Major P. Brown, Captain John Thomas, (since 
General Thomas,) Stephen Cleaver, (since Gene- 
ral Cleaver,) Mr. Helm, and a few others, con- 
cluded to make a last desperate attempt and open 
a passage through the Indian lines, the only possi- 
ble way by which to retreat. The Indians were 
doubly prepared, having twice resisted a charge 
made by a division of the regular army ; but 
those men thought it was but death at the worst, 
and they would make a trial for life. Their 



250 JOHN HELM. 

plans being settled, they called long and loud to 
the Kentuckians to come and go home, and with 
a desperate shout charged upon the Indians with- 
out firing a gun. The Indians for a moment 
seemed to be panic-struck, and yielded to them 
to pass, while the whole army, as if by one im- 
pulse, followed after. 

Mr. Helm, with the true feelings and spirit of 
a backwoodsman, clung to his rifle, that treasure 
to be parted with only in death — his arm bone 
broken and shattered, as before mentioned — and 
carried his rille, and run and marched with the 
army, upwards of thirty miles that day. 

The sutferings from such a wound would have 
been great under the most favorable circumstan- 
ces and best treatment, but awful indeed must 
they have been in a wilderness, with such treat- 
ment and accommodations as could be given in a 
retreating and defeated army ; yet, after months 
of suflering, he returned to his family, and was 
restored to health. This closed his Indian fight- 
ing, and he again resumed his occupation of sur- 
veyor. The Indians were no longer a dread and 
terror. The balance of his life was spent in ac- 
tive and useful labor, mostly as a surveyor. He 
acted as county surveyor in Washington county 
many years, and also, at the same time, as one of 
the associate judges, under the old system, and was 
a neat and thrifty farmer. He had no political 
ambition ; although often urged, he was never a 



JOHN HELM. 251 

candidate for any office before the people. He 
accumulated a considerable fortune, considering 
the theatre upon which he acted and the country 
in which he lived ; yet few men ever came as 
near living and dying without an enemy as he 
did. Seven years before his death, he joined the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, having previously 
professed religion ; and died at his residence in 
Elizabethtown, in a full assurance of a blissful 
eternity, on Friday, the 3d day of April, 1840, 
having lived 51 years, the husband of one wife, 
and leaving five children, and a numerous family 
of grand-children. 



252 



GENERAL ADAIR. 

Few men have rendered more important mili- 
tary service to the southern and north-western 
frontiers, or been more highly esteemed by those 
among whom their lot was cast, as soldiers and 
patriots, than John Adair. He was a native of 
Chester county, in South Carolina ; and in early 
life distinguished himself in our Revolutionary 
struggle, then just commenced, by the ardor and 
activity with which he espoused the cause of his 
country, and by the military genius which he 
displayed in the direction of the detachment 
under his command. In 1787 he emigrated to 
Kentucky, at that time the fruitful field of high 
and daring enterprize. He at once entered into 
the contest with his characteristic vigor, and 
participated largely in the border warfare which 
was then furiously and destructively waged, and 
which was successfully closed in 1794. In the 
attack on Fort Recovery, in which action Go- 
vernor Madison and Colonel Richard Taylor of 
Kentucky were severely wounded, he com- 
manded, as Major, a detachment of Kentucky 
troops. 

At the close of the Indian warfare, he repre- 



OENEBAL ADAIB. 253 

sented for several years the county of Mercer, 
in the Legislature of the State, was afterwards 
speaker thereof, and in 1799 was a member of 
the convention which framed the present consti- 
tution of Kentucky. He afterwards held the 
station of register in the Land Office, and was 
subsequently elected Senator in the Congress of 
the United States. About this period, his opin- 
ions and conduct were the subject of much at- 
tention, and of no little vituperation, in connexion 
with the mysterious designs of Colonel Burr ; 
but it is now very well understood that General 
Adair's course in this affair was very much mis- 
represented, and was predicated wholly upon 
the belief that Burr's movements and plans were 
known and approved by the government of the 
United States, which, he believed, seriously con- 
templated a war with Spain. 

At this period of our political history. General 
Adair acted entirely with the federalists, being 
led into this connexion both by his calm con- 
victions of the correctness of their opinions, and 
by his intimate association with the leading men 
of that party. At the same time, his adherence 
to those opposed to the war of 1812 was entirely 
subservient to the duty which he owed his 
country, as was sufficiently evinced by the 
readiness with which he accompanied Governor 
Shelby and General Harrison into Canada in the 
fall of 1813, and by the good conduct which he 

22 






254 



GENERAL ADAIR. 



displayed in that campaign. He bore a promi- j 
Dent part in the glorious achievements at New 
Orleans, and was, in consequence, promoted by ! 
Governor Shelby, and placed at the head of the 
brave Kentucky troops. His acrimonious con- 
troversy with General Jackson, growing out of 
the imputation cast by the latter upon the chival- 
rous Kcntuckians under his command, resulted 
in his election as Governor of the State, whose 
fame he had so vigorously and triumphantly 
defended. In 1831, at the advanced age of 72, 
he was elected a representative in Congress, . 
which was the closing theatre of his political 
life. In all his various political offices he was 
the invariable and inflexible friend of popular 
rights, and his best eulogy is to be found in the 
deep and unaffected sorrow which followed him 
to the tomb. He died May 19, 1840, "full of 
years and full of honors." 



255 



JOHN LOWELL, LL. D. 

This exemplary philanthropist was born at New- 
bury port, in Massachusetts, October 6th, 1769, 
was graduated at Harvard University in 1786, 
and practised law with distinguished success until 
the year 1803. He then left the bar, and soon 
visited Europe for the improvement of his health, 
which had been much impaired by his arduous 
professional labors. Upon his return he gave his 
time and attention to the use of the public in va- 
rious ways. The time inr which he lived was a 
period of great political excitement ; and he 
mingled in its strife with great ability and effi- 
ciency. He was a consistent and zealous sup- 
porter of the principles of Hamilton and Ames, 
and, throughout his whole political career, steadi- 
ly refused to accept office, or in any way to re- 
ceive a reward for his exertions. From 1810 to 
1822 he was regarded as the leading member of 
the corporation of Harvard University, and was 
one of the projectors and founders of the Massa- 
chusetts General Hospital, the Boston Athenaeum, 
the Savings Bank, and the Hospital Life Insurance 
Company. For many years he was also the 
president of the Massachusetts Agricultural Soci- 



256 JOHN LOWELL, LL. D. 

ety ; and throughout the latter portion of his life, 
he devoted nearly all his time to the study and 
pursuits of horticulture in its various branches. 

Mr. Lowell was distinguished for his gene- 
rosity, his public spirit, his private charities, and 
the hearty, zealous earnestness with which he en- 
tered upon every undertaking that engaged his 
attention. He was a firm believer in the truths 
of Christianity, an unmerciful opponent of all dis- 
simulation and hypocrisy, and a man of singular 
uprightness and integrity. He died March 12, 
1840, of apoplexy, at Boston, in the 71st year of 
his age. 



257 



GILBERT STUART NEWTON. 



BY J. KENRICK FISHER. 



This talented painter was born in Halifax, Nova 
Scotia, September, 1795. His parents, previous- 
ly to the Revolution, resided in Boston ; but re- 
moved thence when the republican army obtained 
possession of that town, and retired to the pro- 
vince above named, where his father held a post 
in the British army. In 1803, Mrs. Newton, then 
a widow, returned to her friends in Boston, bring- 
ing her children with her ; and it appears that 
young Newton continued to reside there until he 
was about twenty-one years of age. 

His relatives intended that he should become a 
merchant, and placed him in a counting-house : 
but he manifested a talent for drawing and paint- 
ing, and attracted notice by sketching likenesses 
of his friends ; and so much of his time was spent 
in this way, that it soon became apparent that he 
would not apply himself to mercantile pursuits ; 
and his friends, judging favorably of his promise 
as an artist, determined to indulge his inclination. 
It appears that he received some instruction from 
his uncle, Gilbert Stuart, after whom he was 

named ; and the works of that great artist cer- 

22* 



«) 



58 GILBERT STUART NEWTON. 



tainly had much influence in forming his style ; 
but, owing to his propensity for disputing, and to 
the high opinion of his own abilities, which the 
praise he received had tempted him to indulge, 
he frequently provoked his uncle, who rebuked 
him so harshly that a coldness grew up between 
them, which continued until Newton went to Italy, 
in 18 IG, after which time there seems to have 
been no opportunity for a reconciliation. I have 
heard many extravagant stories about this unhap- 
py difference, — some ascribing it to the uncle's 
jealousy of his nephew's talents, others to the 
nephew's conceit and insolence ; but the peculiar 
dispositions of both were such that, under the cir- 
cumstances of the case, they hardly could have 
got along without more wrangling than is consis- 
tent with the safety of friendly feelings : the one, 
confident of his extraordinary attainments, and 
ardent in his temperament, could not easily endure 
contradiction from a boy ; the other, noted 
through life for defending his own opinions, right 
or wrong, with all the ingenuity he could muster, 
and elated by the general praise he had received, 
was not likely to pay such homage as was really 
due. 

Newton remained in Italy about a year. Ho 
readily perceived that the living artists of that 
country could afford him no useful instruction ; 
and, in 1817, he went to Paris, where he first met 
Charles Robert Leslie, with whom he formed a 



GILBERT STUART NEWTON. 259 

friendship which soon became intimate, and con- 
tinued until Newton's death. His proficiency at 
this time was very moderate, as I have been told 
by Leslie ; in fact, the first picture he painted in 

I' England was so deficient in drawing, and in other 
respects, that Leslie advised him not to exhibit it. 
But he did not follow the advice ; and it was for- 
tunate for him that he did not, for there was 
something in the coloring, and in the humor of 
treatment, which attracted considerable notice, 
and caused it to be immediately sold. He was 

|. ever after successful in pleasing the public ; but 
he continued to neglect drawing, and on that ac- 
count did not so much rise in the estimation of 
the artists, who were bent on discountenancing 
the prevalent vice of their school, the excessive 
devotion to color, which he evinced in a degree 
that was extraordinary even among themselves. 
This neglect has been ascribed to indolence ; but 

I I believe he was not without great industry and 
perseverance in the pursuit of his favorite excel- 
lence ; and I therefore ascribe it to the predomi- 
nance of his feeling for color, for which he was 
always noted. Leslie says his eye was so exqui- 
site that he could not touch his canvas without 
producing harmony, and that he never did any- 
thing disagreeable to the eye, however defective 
it might be in shape. Besides this extraordinary 
perception of the beautiful in color, he had a fine 
feeling for humor of the most refined sort, and 



260 GILBERT STUART NEWTOX. 

also for the pathetic ; and with these qualities, in 
spite of his neglect of academic discipline, he 
made his way to the feelings of all. 

In 1828, if I remember rightly, he was made 
an associate of the Royal Academy, and in 1832, 
a Royal Academician. It would not become me, 
if it were not far from my disposition, to speak 
disrespectfully of the talented and liberal men 
who are members of that academy ; but I may 
be allowed to say, that I never could account for 
their tardiness in electing Newton, on any other 
ground than that which I before assigned, name- 
ly, their severe opposition to the undue ascenden- 
cy of color. His pictures had merits of the 
highest order, more than could be equalled by the 
correctness of several who were preferred before 
him ; and though I am deeply sensible that their 
severity was needed by the students, I do not be- 
lieve it was wise or just to withhold the honors 
of the academy from him so long as they did. 

In 1832 Mr. Newton returned to this country, 
on a visit to his friends, and remained about a 
year ; during which time he painted a few small 
pictures, chiefly portraits. He married a Miss 
Sumner, of Boston, and shortly after returned to 
London. His happiness was soon terminated by 
the greatest calamity that can befall an intelligent 
being, a loss of reason. It is said the disorder 
vras hereditary. His friends judged it for his 
comfort and advantage to place him in a private 



GILBERT STUART NEWTON. 261 

asylum, where he could receive the best possible 
care and treatment ; but they were not long per- 
mitted to indulge the hope of his recovery. His 
devoted friend, Leslie, often visited him, and ex- 
erted himself with some success to alleviate his 
condition, by aiding in his amusements, which he 
describes as being all of an elegant kind, the chief 
of which was his favorite art. Some of the pro- 
ductions of his pencil, even in this condition, are 
said to have been excellent. 

As there was no hope of his recovery, the pa- 
rents of Mrs. Newton thought it advisable that 
she should return to them, and sent for her. 
Newton lingered somewhat more than a year, 
when his disorder terminated in death. A short 
time before his decease, his consciousness returned 
to him. He inquired for his wife ; but she had 
gone. His last moments are said to have been 
deeply affecting. 

Such was the end of a most gifted artist, in 
the prime of hfe, and the full enjoyment of fame, 
fortune, and domestic happiness. He is lamented 
by many of the most talented men in England, 
whose friendship he had long enjoyed, and who 
esteemed him for his amiable feelings and social 
qualities, as well as for his professional abilities. 

It is important that the character and habits of 
a man of genius should be known ; because such 
knowledge is often of service to the philosophy 
of mind. Therefore, in writing this sketch, I feel 



262 GILBERT 3TUABT NBWTON. 

bound to state what I know, either of the talents, 
the virtues, or the foibles of Mr. Newton. Among 
the latter was a singular unwillingness to ac- 
knowledge himself in the wrong in any disposi- 
tion he had made in a picture : he would defend 
every thing so long as he could, and when argu- 
ments were failing, he would attack his opponent 
on some point or other, to avoid being driven to any 
conclusion, and sometimes become excited and 
sarcastic ; but the next day the objectionable part 
would be found altered. It is said that he some- 
times was displeasing in his manners ; he has 
even been abused on this account : but, the gene- 
ral esteem in which he was held, his intimacy 
with many of the nobility, and of the most emi- 
nent men, sufTicicnlly refute the charges that have 
been sometimes made ai^ainst his character as a 
gentleman. It appears that he was nervous and 
excitable, easily provoked, although generally 
good-natured ; and that he had not the faculty to 
shuffle off a boor without offending him. He 
used to be annoyed by Americans, who were 
anxious to make his acquaintance ; but his time 
was so taken up with more important company, 
that he did not care to devote much of it to them, 
unless they happened to please him : and the 
claim to his attention, on the score of nationality, 
was sure to nettle him, as he did not consider 
himself an American, and had been often abused 
as a renegade. 



GILBERT STUART NEWTON. 263 

Dunlap, in his history of the arts in America, 
mentions that Newton, at a dinner in New York, 
declared himself a subject of Great Britain, and takes 
the occasion to say that such conduct diminished 
:§ his respect for him as a man. It is true, however,' 
that he was a British subject, born in a British pro- 
vince, the son of a loyalist who fled from this coun- 
try at the commencement of the Revolution ; and if 
he preferred the society and institutions of England 
to ours, he had as much right to do so as any man 
has to make a similar choice in religion or poli- 
tics : indeed, we could not, consistently with the 
principles of freedom which we proclaim, deny 
to one of our native citizens the right to transfer 
his allegiance to any foreign government he 
might choose ; and to censure Newton on this 
account evinces more discourtesy than justice. 
Mr. Dunlap also says that Newton, when last in 
this country, spoke disrespectfully of his uncle, as 
he did of American artists generally. If he had 
told us whether the remarks applied to his uncle's 
character as a man, his ability in portraiture, or 
his talent for coloring and imitation, I should know 
what to make of the charge ; but since he has 
not been thus particular, I can only presume that 
he spoke unfavorably of the coloring of Mr. Stu- 
art's pictures, which, if compared with the works 
Newton had been so long familiar with, could 
not admit of such commendation as had usual- 
ly been awarded to them. As to his remarks 



264 GILBERT STUABT NEWTON. 

on American artists generally, I do not know 
what they may be ; but I believe him to have 
been a competent judge, and a man of honor, and 
that therefore his opinions are entitled to respect, 
'even if they do not accord with those we have 
been accustomed to hear. 

Mr. Dunlap also mentions, as an instance of 
the difficulty of pleasing him, that a gentleman 
of this city shewed him his collection of pic- 
tures, and not receiving any compliments on 
account of them, said,-^'At least, you will al- 
low that they are tolerable." " Tolerable !" said 
Newton, "yes; but would you eat a tolerable 
GggV Such replies are likely to provoke men 
who believe their favorite pictures worthy of the 
commendations bestowed on them by those who 
drink their wine ; and an artist of Newton's re- 
fined taste and sensitiveness would hardly fail to 
bring on himself, from some quarter or other, the 
charge of " pertness, approaching to puppyism," 
which Mr. Dunlap has been pleased to record. 
On the whole, these disparaging remarks on New- 
ton's politics, manners and opinions, appear to 
have no probable foundation ; they are contradic- 
tory to his general character, and seem generally 
to have been made in resentment of some dissat- 
isfaction for which he ought not to have been 
held accountable. I am particular in noticing 
them, because I wish to remove, as much as pos- 
sible, the prevalent notion that a great artist may 



GILBERT STUART NEWTON. 265 

be a mean and ill-bred man. If a few instances 
have occurred in which he wounded the feelings 
of any gentlemen, they may fairly be attributed 
to his nervous temperament, and the uneasiness 
he constantly felt on account of his inability to 
speak in a satisfactory manner of the " widely re- 
ceived opinions," the political institutions, and the 
works of art, which were held up for his admira- 
tion. It may, moreover, be observed, that the 
nervous disorder, which terminated in insanity, 
was making its slow approaches while he was in 
this country. I have been informed that he fre- 
quently got up at midnight, to scrape out some 
part of his picture which he was not satisfied 
with, and which would not allow him to sleep un- 
til he had erased it. In such a condition he could 
not have been so much at ease as might be desir- 
able, or feel such pleasure as he otherwise would 
in the various companies in which he found 
himself. 



23 



266 



THE LATE SAMUEL WARD. 



BY CHARLE3 KING. 



The record of a good man's life, while it soothes 
the aflcctions of all who loved and survive him, 
has the higher merit of encouraging the struggles 
and sustaining the virtue of those who, entering 
upon life with no other reliance than their own 
strong arms and resolute hearts, and honest prin- 
ciples, are cheered on their way by the example 
of success achieved and high character establish- 
ed, under like circumstances, by others. 

It is a brief record of this sort, and not a eulo- 
gy, that is here attempted of the late Samuel 
Ward. The pompous funeral orations which com- 
memorate the death of the great ones of the earth, 
too often, by the very exaggeration of their praise, 
mark a painful contrast between the actions of 
the man, and the votive offerings that decorate his 
tomb. The reader, while his taste is gratified by 
splendid perorations and his imagination is excited 
by brilliantly drawn pictures, yet feels his moral 
sense shocked at the discovery, that flattery stops 
not even at the grave ; and although it cannot 
•* soothe the dull, cold ear of death," that it yet 



SAMUEL WARD. 267 

finds profit in ministering to the vanity of the 
living. 

Ours is a humbler and more honest task — that 
of satisfying the feelings of private friendship, 
while we adhere to the impartiality of unadorned 
narrative. 

Mr. Ward was a native of Rhode Island, and 
sprang from a race illustrious in the annals of 
that renowned commonwealth. The founder of 
the family, Thomas Ward, of Gloucester, England, 
was a soldier in the armies of Cromwell, who, 
after the accession of Charles 11. in 1660, retired 
to this country and settled at New^port, Rhode 
Island. He married Amey Smith, a grand- 
daughter of Roger Williams, and left an only son, 
Richard, who was subsequently Governor of 
Rhode Island. His sons, Thomas and Henry, 
were successively Secretaries of the plantation 
for half a century, and his son Samuel was Go- 
vernor thereof for several years. Samuel was 
also a member of the Continental Congress from 
1774 to March 1776, when he died at Philadel- 
phia. Of this gentleman, old John Adams, a mem- 
ber of the same Congress, thus wrote : " He was 
a gentleman in his manners, benevolent and amia- 
ble in his disposition, and as decided, ardent and 
uniform in his patriotism as any member of that 
Congress. When he was seized with the small 
pox, he said, that if his vote and voice were ne- 
cessary to support the cause of his country, he 



268 BAMUEL WARD. 

should live ; if not, he should die." He died, and 
the cause of his country was supported, but it 
lost one of its most sincere and punctual advo- 
cates. He was an ingenious man and well in- 
formed." 

Samuel, the son of this gentleman, and the father 
of the subject of our notice, early took part with 
his country against the oppression of England. 
At the breaking out of the Revolutionary war 
he commanded a company, and was one of those 
who made the perilous march with Arnold 
through the unbroken forests of New En^^land to 
Quebec. He was subsequently a lieutenant colo- 
nel in the Rhode Island line, and served with dis- 
tinction throughout the war. He was a gentleman 
and a scholar, and passed through a long life with 
unblemished reputation. 

Samuel Ward, his son, was born 1st May, 
1780, soon after which the family, in 1790, re- 
moved to this city. A narrow income and a large 
family prevented the father from gratifying the 
wish early expressed by his son for a collegiate 
education ; and therefore, at the age of 14, having 
received only the ordinary instruction of an Eng- 
hsh school, he entered as a clerk in that banking- 
house of which he eventually became the head. 
In 1808, at the age of 22, he was taken into part- 
nership by Mr. Prime; and from that time till the 
period of his death, he continued an active and 
influential man of business. 



SAMUEL WARD. 269 

Money was the commodity in which Mr. Ward 
dealt, and if, as is hardly to be disputed, money 
be the root of all evil, it is also, in hands that 
know how to use it worthily, the instrument of 
much good. There exists undoubtedly, in re- 
gard to the trade in money, and respecting those 
engaged in it, many and absurd prejudices, inhe- 
rited in part from ancient eiTor, and fomented 
and kept alive by the jealousies of ignorance and 
indigence. It is therefore no small triumph to 
have lived down, as Mr. Ward did, this prejudice, 
and to have forced upon the community in the 
midst of which he resided, and upon all brought 
into connexion with him, the conviction that com- 
merce in money, like commerce in general, is, to a 
lofty spirit, lofty and ennobling, and is valued 
more for the power it confers, of promoting libe- 
ral and beneficent enterprizes, and of conducing 
to the welfare and prosperity of society, than 
for the means of individual and selfish gratifica- 
tion or indulgence. 

The incidents of such a career as that of Mr. 
Ward are necessarily few, and as he was of re- 
markably unobtrusive disposition, though of great 
firmness of purpose and well-settled notions of 
duty, the impress of his character upon those 
around and in contact with him, though sure and 
salutary, was yet silent and gradual. 

Mr. Ward was married to Miss Cutler, in 
October, 1812, — a lady of great beauty and fine 

23* 



270 



SAMUEL WARD. 



understanding. The years of his married life, 
though few and fleeting, were bright and joyous. 
A liberal and elegant hospitality presided over 
his household, while the domestic hearth was 
gladdened with the merry voices of the children 
of their marriage. 

In the year 1824, death took from him the 
wife of his aflections, leaving him with the 
charge of a family of three sons and three 
daughters. 

Atlliction, like adversity, tries and proves the 
character. Mr. Ward, stunned for a while by 
the blow which had scattered in an instant his 
dreams of human happiness, soon recovered the 
tone of his mind, by looking to that religion which 
heretofore perhajis had occupied too small a 
portion of iiis thoughts, and which alone can 
adequately console the broken heart. 

He roused himself to his duties as a father, as 
a member of society, and, above all, as a Christian ; 
and after the lapse of a few years, he became 
zealous and active in his efforts to advance the 
objects of various literary institutions and asso- 
ciations for promoting the growth of morality 
and religion. 

In 1828, the Historical Society — which, though 
early founded, had struggled along through a 
precarious existence, and without other local 
habitation than such as the indulgence of the 
Corporation of the city allowed it in the build- 



SAMUEL WARD. 21V 

inof known as the Old Aims-House, — was, in 
the progress of the city's growth, which required 
the application to city purposes of all their 
buildings, turned out of doors. Mr. Ward im- 
mediately interested himself earnestly arid suc- 
cessfully in procuring for it, and its already 
valuable collection, a safe and convenient retreat 
in the new building then just erected by Mr. 
Peter Remsen, on the corner of Broadway and 
Chambers street. 

In 1830, in connexion with Albert Gallatin, 
Rev. Drs. VVainwright, Matthews, and others, 
Mr. Ward was exceedingly active in founding 
the New York University, towards which he 
himself subscribed S2500, and was mainly in- 
strumental in inducing other large subscriptions. 

The subject of sound and liberal education, 
to be placed within the reach of all, or as nearly 
so as possible, was one particularly near to his 
heart, the rather that he himself had been balked 
in his favorite wish of obtaining such an edu- 
cation. This loss was, to the day of his death, a 
source of regret to him, although assiduous self- 
culture and much reading, in the intervals of a 
very busy life, had, in the estimation of others, 
left him little to regret on this point. He there- 
fore followed up with ardor the plan of the 
University, took part in the proceedings of the 
Literary Convention, which in 1830-1 was held 
in this city, and over which John Q. Adams pre« 



272 SAMUEL WARD. 

sided — having for its object, inquiries into the 
state of education among us, and as to the best 
modes of advancing it, — and he persevered until 
the New York University was established. 

About the year 1831, Mr. Ward turned his 
attention more especially to the moral and reli- 
gious condition of the poorer classes in this great 
city, and entered warmly into the eflbrts then 
making in behalf of the cause of Temperance, so 
intimately connected with morality ; and in be- 
half of Mission Churches in those parts of the 
city where there was most need of, and least 
opportunity for, religious instruction. 

Of the City Temperance Society, which was 
then formed, he became the President, and so 
continued until the day of his death, directing its 
operations with the w^ell known energy of his 
character, but, at the same time, with the discre- 
tion and forbearance that could alone conciliate 
friends to this new and most beneficent reform. 
It is mainly owing to the good sense and sound 
judgment which Mr. Ward exhibited in this 
situation, resisting the extreme demand of total 
abstinence, and the more injurious pretension to 
interfere with the divine institution of the Eu- 
charist, that the New York City Temperance 
Society has maintained its ground unshaken 
amidst the perils resulting from ultra and un- 
popular doctrines. In addition to his personal 



SAMUEL WARD. 273 

services, Mr. Ward's pecuniary contributions to 
this society were from $300 to $500 per annum. 

The estabhshment of the Mission Church in 
Yandewater street, the first in connexion with 
the Protestant Episcopal Church, attested his 
efficiency in that cause. It was upon his indi- 
cation and recommendation that the Rev. B. C. 
Cutler (his brother-in-law) was brought from 
Quincy, Massachusetts, to take charge of this 
free church, and the success with which he 
ministered there, until called to a sphere of wider 
usefulness in Brooklyn, amply justified the choice. 
Mr. Ward's contributions in money, large as they 
were, to this object, and large as were the sums 
which he prevailed upon others to give, were 
hardly more important than his punctual and 
diligent personal attendance once or twice week- 
ly at the meetings held to advance the interests 
of this evangelical undertaking. 

It was about 1831, that, after years of self- 
examination and study and meditation, he deter- 
mined to join the church. From the period of 
Mrs. Ward's death his mind had been turned to 
this result, but he was too conscientious to act 
in so grave a matter without due preparation 
and certain convictions. Having at last arrived 
at his own conclusions, which, because adopted 
with caution, were rarely indeed altered, he 
took the final pledge, and he lived up to it, so 
far as falUble human judgment may decide, for 



274 SAMUEL WARD. 

the remainder of his days. Among the aids to 
which he was indebted for a right decision on 
this most momentous subject, was Butler's Ana- 
logy of Revealed Religion ; and Mr. Ward would 
sometimes dwell with emphasis upon the satis- 
faction with which, after repeated trials, and a 
good deal of intense study, he finally mastered 
that most powerful, consistent, and logical treatise 
upon Christianity. 

The prosperity which rewarded his labors as 
a man of business, seemed only to impose on 
liim the desire, as it afforded the means, of being 
more extensively useful. Without neglecting 
any former objects, he extended the field of his 
labors and benefactions. He took a lively in- 
terest in Kenyon College, Ohio, of which Bishop 
Mcllvainc had recently become President ; he 
made a donation to it of $1000, and loaned it 
a very large sum besides, on the security of its 
lands, lie also gave liberally to Bishop Kemper, 
for his college, and to Bishop Smith, of the 
diocese of Kentucky, for the spiritual wants of 
the West. His money, however, as before re- 
marked, was perhaps the least valuable part of 
his services, for he took a personal interest in all 
these subjects, consulted about and contrived 
means for advancing them, enlisted the active 
support of many, and the sympathy of all, in their 
behalf, and thus literally went about doing 
good. 



SAMUEL WARD. 275 

In 1836, Mr. Ward, in conjunction with other 
pubhc-spirited individuals, founded the Stuyvesant 
Institute, and erected the fine edifice bearing that 
name in Broadway, which it was fondly hoped, 
like the Athena3um in Boston, might become a 
centre for literature, art, and science, in the upper 
part of our wide-spreading city. The political 
and financial reverses, that soon followed, de- 
feated, at least for the present, this expectation, 
and annihilated for Mr. Ward the large sum of 
^4000, he had contributed to this enterprise. 
After-years, however, may yet realize the benefits 
which he and his associates meditated for their 
day and generation, and the noble fabric still 
stands, and long may it stand, a monument to the 
liberal spirit of its founders. 

With very clear and decided notions on politi- 
cal subjects, Mr. Ward had yet kept himself, — 
as was, indeed, until 1834, the case with very 
many of the leading and active commercial 
men in New York, — free from party strife. 
As an American, he felt bound to take an in- 
terest in the elections, as they recurred, and 
never omitted to fulfil the obligation of voting ; 
but in the mere scramble for office, the contest 
between the ins and the outs^ he neither felt nor 
feigned any concern. When, however, in 1834, 
that series of disastrous measures commenced, 
which, under the auspices of General Jackson and 
his successor, have caused such accumulated ruin 



I 



276 SAMUEL WARD. 

and misery, Mr. Ward, with his wonted decision 
and vigor, entered the pohtical arena, and incited 
and encouraged all who had the welfare of the 
country at heart, to do likewise. The removal of 
the public deposits from the Bank of the United 
States, he pronounced to be, at the time, and 
never faltered in the belief, an act so lawless, vi- 
olent, and fraught with disaster, that it would and 
must eventually overthrow the men and the 
party that resorted to it. He did not live to wit- 
ness, as we do, the entire and literal verification of 
this sagacious opinion. 

The winter of 1836-7 was one that called forth 
in the highest degree the exercise of Mr. Ward's 
principles as a commercial man, proud of the 
great city with whose growth his own was iden- 
tified, and whose honor was to him dear as his 
own. Long and strenuously he strove to avert the 
financial crisis then impending, declaring himself 
ready to put all his own earnings at hazard, rather 
than witness the dishonor of the banks of New 
York. Individual effort, however, was vain, and 
the 10th of May saw all the banks reduced to sus- 
pend specie payments ; and upon no man did 
that disastrous day close with deeper mortifica- 
tion than upon the subject of this notice. Person- 
ally, and in his business relations, this event af- 
fected Mr. Ward as little possibly as any one at 
all connected with affairs ; but, in his estima- 
tion, it vitally wounded the commercial honor 



SAMUEL WARD. 277 

and character of the city. He was not, how- 
ever, a man to waste in unavaiHng regrets, hours 
that might be more advantageously employed to 
repair the evil, and he therefore at once set 
about the arrangement of measures for inducing 
and enabling the banks to resume at the earliest 
possible moment. The public mind was far 
from sound on this topic ; the business of banking 
had been made a sort of mystery, and ideal 
difficulties and interested objections, and timid 
anticipations, were again and again the sole 
rephes to the direct and manly suggestions of 
common sense, honesty, interest, and duty, which 
Mr. Ward from day to day, in season and out of 
season, in the street, in his office, and in bank 
parlors, iterated and reiterated, about the abso- 
lute necessity and certain practicability of an 
early resumption. So much earnestness, how- 
ever, backed by so much good sense and untiring 
perseverance, could not fail to obtain a hearing, 
and gradually to make proselytes. Little by 
little the circle of sound thinkers and correct 
reasoners was enlarged, until early in the year 
1838, the sentiment that the banks could and 
should return to specie payments, became more 
and more irresistible. Opposition from else- 
where only induced greater efforts on the part 
of Mr. Ward, and those who shared his coun- 
cils, and coincided in his views, to sustain the 
confidence of the New York institutions in their 

24 



278 SAMUEL WARD. 

ability to carry out their honest purposes. After 
these banks had announced their determination 
to resume within a year from the day of sus- 
pension, Mr. Ward was active in organizing the 
pubHc meeting which pledged the merchants 
and traders to stand by the banks. They did 
resume, and as Mr. Ward had again and again 
predicted, specie, instead of being drawn from, 
flowed into, the banks. All difficulties were over- 
come, and the path of honor and duty was once 
more entered upon by those institutions. Mr. 
Ward, overwrought as he had been by the al- 
most exclusive charge of the extensive business 
of the house, — his partner, Mr. King, being in 
Europe, — and by his great efforts out of doors in 
bringing back specie payments, fell sick. It was 
on a bed of sutfering that he first received from 
his partner in London, the gratifying intelligence 
that the Bank of England, influenced by a wise 
and provident desire to restore the currency of 
our country so intimately connected in business 
with Great Britain, had determined to confide to 
their house for that purpose a loan of nearly 
85,000,000, in gold. This extraordinary mark of 
confidence, this well-earned tribute to the pru- 
dence and integrity of the house, Mr. Ward did 
not aflect to undervalue, and confirming, as it did, 
the sagacity of his own views, and the results 
which he had so confidently foretold, it was not 



i 



SAMUEL WARD. 279 

lost upon the community in the midst of which he 
lived. 

It was shortly after this period, that the law of 
the State of New York was passed permitting 
private associations or individuals to transact the 
business of banking. Mr. Ward conceived this 
to be a good occasion for establishing a bank on 
what from long experience he deemed to be sound 
principles ; and the result of his cogitations and 
consultations, frequent, though not with many per- 
sons, was the establishment of the Bank of Com- 
merce, which in its constitution and bye-laws 
may, it is believed, be truly described as present- 
ing a model bank. 

The health of Mr. Ward, which had under- 
gone several violent shocks from the painful 
and exhausting disease of inflammatory gout, 
began to give way under the severe trials 
and constant fatigues to which he exposed him- 
self; and when therefore, on the declension of 
Mr. Gallatin, by reason of advanced age, to 
accept the presidency of the Bank of Com- 
merce, the station was pressed upon him, both his 
shattered constitution and the unaffected diffidence 
which instinctively held him back from accepting 
prominent station, combined to urge him to re- 
fuse. But when he was solicited with increased 
earnestness to accept the post, and appeals were 
made to his sense of duty, he yielded his consent 
to take the helm, until the new bank should be 



280 SAMUEL WARD. 

fairly afloat, and under full and successful head- 
way, stipulating with that rare disinterestedness 
that entered so largely into his character, not to 
receive any compensation for his services. Un- 
happily, the rooms in the new Exchange, in w^hich 
the business of the bank was transacted, were yet 
damp from recent plastering, and two successive 
attacks of his ancient maladv, were therebv in- 
duced in the spring of 1839, which, by their seve- 
rity and rapid succession, fatally undermined his 
health. But he yet struggled against disease and 
debility, giving all the energy of a mind that 
soared above the influence of bodily suflcring, to 
perfect and consolidate an institution, by the en- 
during, just and beneficent operations of which 
he might reasonably hope to be remembered in 
after-years among men. 

In July of that year, feeble and emaciated, he 
made his accustomed summer visit to Newport, 
but not with the accustomed result of renovated 
strength and spirits ; the recuperative powers of 
the system seemed exhausted, while from the cri- 
tical condition of the commercial and financial 
aflfairs of the country, he, from his connexion with 
the Bank of Commerce, was not allowed the res- 
pite from business, which at Newport he had 
hitherto been wont to enjoy. He kept up an ac- 
tive daily correspondence with the bank, took a 
lively interest in all its transactions, and when, in 
October, the banks of Pennsylvania, and of the 



SAMUEL WARD. 281 

States south thereof, suspended specie payments, 
and clamors almost amounting to menace, were 
heard against the declared purpose of the New 
York banks to maintain at all hazard their pay- 
ments, Mr. Ward hurried back, valetudinarian 
as he was, to the city, threw himself at once into 
the conflict, sustained, encouraged, and convinced 
the timid and the doubting, — replying with truth 
and energy to a friend who admonished him of 
the peril to his exhausted frame of such exertions, 
that " he would esteem life itself not unworthily 
sacrificed, if, by word or deed, he could aid the 
banks in adhering faithfully to their duty." For 
nearly two weeks he gave up his time, thoughts, 
and labor to this object; and when, at last, he saw 
that it was accomplished, and that the honor and fair 
fame of the much-loved city in which, and with 
which, he had grown from boyhood to mature 
age, were to be inviolably maintained, — he went 
home to die. It was literally so ; the bed which 
received him after the accomplishment of this 
his last labor, he never again left alive. 

Enduring pain without a murmur, — patient, gen- 
tle, humble, and resigned, — looking death steadfast- 
ly in the face, as one whose features he had ac- 
customed himself to contemplate, — leaning for sup- 
port upon the Rock of Ages, — consoled by the 
memories of a well-spent life, — at peace with him- 
self and with the world, — he expired in the midst 

24* 



282 SAMUEL WARD. 

of his family and friends, on the 27th of November, 
1839. 

In his personal intercourse with the world, 
Mr. Ward was direct, almost to abruptness. Sin- 
cere and decided in his own views, he was impa- 
tient of circumlocution and indecision in others. 
He was a stickler for punctuality, not only as an 
act of politeness, but as economizing what he 
deemed a precious possession — time. 

Havinir early proposed to himself a particular 
aim in life, he never lost sight of it until success 
crowned his eflbrts. Of this singleness of purpose 
and unwavering determination, this anecdote is 
told by an elderly lady, still living : that upon her 
questioning him while yet a lad, as to what he 
meant to be, his immediate re})ly was, " I mean 
to be one of the first bankers in the Untied 
States." 

In the intercourse with his family and friends, 
he was eminently confiding, generous, and tender. 
As son, brother, parent, and friend, he was, not 
irreproachable merely, but admirable ; and in 
all the relations of life, he exemplified and 
adorned the character of a good citizen, a hum- 
ble Christian, and an honest man. 

If we have not wholly failed in our sketch of 
such a character, it will not be without its moral 
and encouragement for others. 



283 



STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER. 



General Van Rensselaer, generally known as 
the " Patroon," for upward of half a century, 
has filled a wide space in the sphere of usefulness, 
not only in the immediate community in which he 
resided, but in the whole State and country. His 
father dying when he was very young, he came 
to his princely estates early in Hfe. From that 
day until his decease, his life, both in public and 
private, was that of virtue and honor, and of ex- 
pansive benevolence. His hand was set to every 
good work, and his heart beat responsively to 
every thing calculated to awaken human sym- 
pathy. 

He was the last of those who may, in one re- 
spect at least, be classed among the colonial gen- 
try, as the law of entail ceases with him. There 
are those remaining who yet remember the festi- 
vities of the tenantry of Rensselaerwick, when 
the young Patroon, as he was called, came of 
age. The event was celebrated with great feast- 
ing and rejoicings — the roasting of oxen, and the 
killing of poultry, and knocking in the heads of 
butts of brown ale — after the manner of feudal 
times. 



284 STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER. 

He was educated at Harvard College, and mar- 
ried, as his first wife, the daughter of General 
Schuyler, the heroine of the general's family, who 
snatched her infant sister from the cradle, and 
rushed through the gang of John Waltermeyer, 
when that tory chieftain was attempting to abduct 
General Schuyler from his mansion, during the 
war of the Revolution. His second wife is the 
daughter of the late eminent Judge Patterson, of 
New Jersey. 

At the election of John Jay, as governor of New 
York, Stephen Van Rensselaer was elected lieu- 
tenant-governor. He subsequently served in the 
Senate of the State of New York, and afterward 
several times in the House of Assembly. In the 
year 1821, he was elected a member of the conven- 
tion which formed the new constitution of the State. 
Soon after this event he was chosen to rej)resent 
the city and county of Albany in the Congress of 
the United States, in which station he served 
eight or ten years, greatly to the satisfac- 
tion of his constituents. It was by his casting 
vote in the New York delegation in Congress, 
ihat Mr. Adams was elected President, on the 
first ballot, in February, 1825 ; by which act, un- 
der all the circumstances of the case, and the 
very delicate position in which he was placed, 
he won for himself great credit for his moral 
courage and patriotism. 

In 181G he was appointed one of the Board of 



STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER. 285 

Canal Commissioners, of which body he became 
the president, on the removal of Dew^itt Clinton, 
in 1824, and at the head of which he remained 
until his decease. He was likewise for a long 
series of years a regent of the University of the 
State of New York, and the chancellor of that 
body after the decease of the late Lieutenant- 
Governor Taylor. For more than thirty years he 
was, we believe, the major-general of the cavalry 
of the State of New York. Certainly he was in 
the occupancy of that rank at the commencement 
of the late war with Great Britain in 1812. And 
the alacrity with which he repaired to the Nia- 
gara frontier, and assumed the command, in that 
year, at the instance of Governor Tompkins, has 
ever been considered an evidence of his disinter- 
ested patriotism, inasmuch as he had been op- 
posed in principle to the declaration of that war, 
and inasmuch, also, as his princely fortune, and 
his partiality for the tranquil pursuits of private 
and domestic life, afforded him every inducement 
for avoiding the toils and hardships of the field. 
His campaign was crowned with the brilliant, 
though in the end disastrous, affair of Queens- 
ton ; and had his means been equal to his brave- 
ry and military skill, the sun of that year would 
not have gone down, as it did, in gloom. 

But it is in the retirement of private life, and in 
the walks of Christian philanthropy and benevo- 
lence, that the example of Mr. Van Rensselaer 



286 STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER. 

affords the most attractive subject for contem- 
plation. His whole course was marked by 
benevolent actions, while his path was ever 
illuminated by the bright though softened lustre 
of the Christian religion. He was literally the 
father of the fatherless, and ever, awd in all cir- 
cumstances, the poor man's friend. He was a 
liberal patron of literature and the arts, as his 
numerous benefactors will bear ample testimony. 
In connexion with our great national institution 
of Christian benevolence, his name has ever 
stood most prominent. He was one of the ear- 
liest and most efficient friends of the Bible 
Society, and his name was for a long time num- 
bered upon the honored list of Vice-Presidents. 
For many years before his decease, he had been 
at the head of the American Board of Com- 
missioners for Foreign Missions ; and his name is 
munificently connected with many other kindred 
institutions, which cannot now be enumerated. 
Long will the poor of Albany have reason to 
deplore his loss ; long will the numerous tenantry 
of his extensive domains have reason to bless his 
memory ; and long will the Christian public have 
cause to mourn the departure of a stanch and 
unwavering friend and most liberal benefactor. 

A gentleman by birth, education and asso- 
ciations, a brother-in-law of Hamilton, and a mem- 
ber of the elevated circles of the palmy days of 
the young republic, the manners of Mr. Van 



STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER. 287 

Rensselaer were those of the old school — at once 
simple, elegant, and unostentatious. His temper 
was marked with native sweetness and amia- 
bility, blended with many Christian graces. His 
deeds of charity were not performed to be seen 
of men, and as his left hand did not know what 
was done by his right, the records of his bounty 
have been kept only above. His political prin- 
ciples were those of the " father of his country." 
His religious, those of the Bible — unsophisti- 
cated by false philosophy, and untinctured by 
fanaticism. He was evidently a practical Chris- 
tian. 

His last end was peace. For more than a 
year before his decease, he had expressed himself 
ready to depart, and awaited with composure the 
summons of the messenger. He died January 
26th, 1839, in the 74th year of his age. 



288 



DR. HENRY PERRINE. 



BY ^\^. M. GILLESPIE. 



If it be true, that " he who causes two blades 
of grass to grow where one grew before, is a 
benefactor of his country," the highest praise 
must be due to him who introduces new and 
valuable objects of culture, and by their means 
converts desert tracts, before valueless and 
noxious, into permanent sources of wealth and 
prosperity. Such })raise is merited by the late Dr. 
Henry Perrine. 

He was a native of New Jersey, was educated 
as a physician, and practised his profession with 
great success in the State of Illinois. In 182G, he 
was appointed by John Q. Adams, American 
Consul at Campcachy. He resided there for 
many years, and thus became intimately ac- 
quainted with the value of the agricultural pro- 
ductions of the provinces of Campeachy, Yucatan, 
and Sisal. His comprehensive mind perceived 
the benefits that would arise from transferring 
their culture to the United States ; but to this 
the narrow-minded jealousy of the inhabitants 
interposed great obstacles. When tliey could 
not avoid allowing seeds to leave the country, 



DR. HENRY PERRINE. 289 

they would boil them previously, that their sub- 
sequent germination might be impossible. But 
Dr. Perrine's philanthropic employment of his 
professional skill overcame this difficulty. The 
cholera scourged those regions more heavily in 
proportion to their population, than any others, 
and he was unwearied, night and day, in affording 
relief to the sick. So distinguished were his 
services, that the Mexican government gave him 
a public vote of thanks. He thus obtained many 
devoted friends, some of whom had the courage 
to supply him with the great object of his desires, 
in spite of the denunciations of the priesthood. 

Dr. Perrine was thus enabled to transfer to 
the congenial soil of Florida, and to the care of 
his intimate friend, Mr. Howe, many valuable 
tropical plants. Among them the most important 
was the Agave Sisalana, a plant precisely .the 
same as that which produces the valuable article 
of merchandise known in the market as Manilla 
hemp. The peculiar cactus upon which the 
cochineal insect feeds, as well as bananas, and 
other esculent plants, were also among the objects 
of his cultivation. His experiments demon- 
strated that the staples of the tropics may be 
advantageously produced in our southern States, 
some of them as far north as Virginia ; and that 
the sand barrens and noxious morasses of Florida 
are peculiarly adapted to produce, almost without 
labor, by self-propagation, the various fibrous 

25 



290 DR. HENRY PERfilNE. 

plants from which are manufactured Manilla 
and Sisal rope, the beautiful variety of grass 
cloths, iSz:c. 

Having resigned his office of consul, Dr. 
Perrine came to the United States to carry his 
plans into operation. He attended the session of 
Congress in 1838, and laid before the members 
his philanthropic project. In the room appro- 
priated to the committee on agriculture he dis- 
played some specimens of fibrous plants, in their 
original and manufactured states. In a memorial 
to Congress, he embodied a vast amount of in- 
formation upon the nature and habits of various 
useful plants, and proved the practicability and 
advantages of his theories. For aid in these 
great plans, he asked the aid of government ; 
not in money, but in a grant of lands generally 
considered worthless and uninhabitable. After 
long solicitation, he received permission to locate 
a settlement for the propagation of tropical 
plants upon the public lands in Florida, with the 
privilege of purchasing any surrounding lands 
at the market price when the Indians should be 
removed. 

Having so far succeeded, he came to the north, 
to inquire into the wants of the manufacturers, 
the kinds of fibre most likely to be first demanded, 
and the machinery which would best cleanse 
them from the surrounding pulp and enveloping 
skin. His next step would have been, upon the 



DR, HENRY PERRINE. 291 

cessation of Indian hostilities, to collect a number 
of poor but industrious families, and settle them 
upon the lands of his Florida grant, ensuring them 
a subsistence, until, by their labor and acquired 
skill, they became able to support and enrich 
themselves. He had proceeded to Florida with 
his family, and was residing at Indian Key when 
that place was attacked by the Indians during the 
past summer. He addressed them in Spanish from 
the top of his house, and prevailed upon them to 
retire. They returned however after midnight, 
burst into the house, and there put an end to his life 
and patriotic labors. His family escaped by means 
of a boat, which the Indians had left near the 
house. 

So perished Dr. Perrine, another victim of the 
murderous Florida war. But it is to be hoped 
that his splendid scheme for the increase of nation- 
al wealth will not perish with him. Its great im- 
portance will most clearly appear, when we re- 
flect that our cotton, rice, and tobacco crops are 
rapidly exhausting the soil of our southern States. 
This effect is most strongly seen in Virginia 
where many estates, once among the most fertile 
in the Old Dominion, are now worthless barrens. 
But even were this not the case, the introduction 
of new objects of culture is yet highly laudable. 
A prudent capitalist is careful not to invest all his 
fortune in any one enterprise, however promising 
and apparently secure it may be, and however 



292 DR. HENRY PERRINE. 

great its present returns. Should a nation exer- 
cise less forethought than an individual, in matters 
of so much greater moment ? England is en- 
couraging the cotton culture in India, and has 
sent out thither some of our own skilful planters, 
whose experience she will turn against us. The 
enterprising, though despotic. Pacha of Egypt, 
finds time amid his wars to promote the same 
object in his kingdom, and will thus produce it 
at comparatively the doors of the consumers. 
With these and similar facts before us, we may 
estimate at nearer their true value, the great 
projects of Dr. Perrine for increasing our national 
objects of cultivation and commerce. 

It would be perhaps too much to expect that 
another could arise, possessing his experience, 
talents and energy, but we would earnestly hope 
that, among his many friends, some will be found, 
able and willing to carry out successfully his 
noble enterprise. 



293 



TIMOTHY FLINT. 

The race of pioneers in the cause of American 
literature is passing from the earth. It is a sub- 
ject of just regret that so scanty memorials of 
their several characters and lives have been 
given to the public by their cotemporaries and 
friends, that the most interesting and instructive 
details of personal character, calculated to delight 
and improve the future admirers of their sur- 
viving efforts, and which, once lost, can never 
be recovered, have been too generally suffered to 
sink into oblivion, because no hand has been put 
forth to preserve them. 

Our country v^ill yet feel and deplore this 
omission as a misfortune. The founders of her 
political independence have gone to their graves 
amid the tokens of a nation's gratitude and 
affection ; the turf above their mouldering bones 
is yet verdant with the proud, regretful tears of 
millions, who have learned from history, from 
biography, from story and song, the glowing tale 
of their trials and their achievements. The 
founders of her intellectual independence have 
thus far met a different fate. Will it be ever 
thus? We trust not. The value of literary 

25* 



294 TIMOTHY FLINT. 

biography has not been sufficiently estimated 
among us. Its lessons have been listened to and 
' heeded with scarce a thought of the source 
whence the salutary monitions emanated. It is 
the fashion to ridicule and contemn the uncon- 
sciously admitted faults of the Boswells of liter- 
ature ; but what would we not give for a delinea- 
tion of Shakspeare by a Boswell ? 

The writer of this brief sketch laments that it 
has not been found possible, by reason of the haste 
with which the concluding sheets of this work 
are put to press, to obtain a sketch of Mr. Flint's 
eventful career from the pen of a personal ac- 
quaintance, and that, in the absence of personal 
knowledge, the materials before him are vague, 
scanty, and imperfect. All he can hope to effect 
is the arrangement of these materials in the most 
natural and intelligible order. 

Timothy Flint was born in the town of 
Reading, Massachusetts, in the year 1780. He 
graduated at Harvard University, in 1800, and 
was soon after ordained to the Christian ministry 
in the Congregational order. He accepted a call 
from the Congregational Society in Lunenburg, 
Massachusetts, to assume the pastoral charge of 
that church, and there remained in the discbarge 
of the duties of his sacred calling for several 
years. He then accepted an appointment as a 
missionary to labor in the valley of the Mis- 
sissippi, to which he repaired in 1814. After 



TIMOTHY FLINT. 295 

devoting several years to that service, residing 
principally at Cincinnati, he relinquished the 
post of missionary, partly on account of his' 
feeble health, w^hich W3.s thought to dictate a 
removal to a more southern climate, but essen- 
tially, if we mistake not, because a change of his 
religious creed from Orthodoxy, so called, to 
Unitarianism, rendered a dissolution of his mis- 
sionary connexion, or at least a cessation of his 
dependence on the Congregational church, just 
and proper. He removed to Alexandria, parish 
of Rapides, on the Red river, Louisiana, and 
there engaged in the conduct of a literary semi- 
nary. Here his family resided at the time of 
his death. 

In 1825, soon after his removal to Louisiana, 
Mr. Flint wrote his " Recollections of Ten Years 
passed in the Valley of the Mississippi," v^^hich 
was published in the course of the following 
year. This work extended to four hundred 
octavo pages, and is written with that bland 
simplicity and vigorous fluency of style which 
distinguish all his works. Its appreciation by 
the public was more ready and cordial than is 
often the fortune of the first production of an 
author wholly unknown to the public which he 
addresses. Though a veritable narration of the 
author's experience and observations, the " Recol- 
lections" possess all the charm of a romance, 
blended with a more abiding interest and value. 



TIMOTHY FLINT. 



296 



They contain the most graphic and faithful 
dchneations of the scenery and physical aspect 
of the rfegion depicted, that has ever yet been 
given to the pubhc. 

Mr. Flint's next work, " The History and Geog- 
raphy of the Mississippi Valley," was published at 
Cincinnati in 1827. It was an original production, 
composed with great labor and care from mate- 
rials principally collected by himself in the course 
of his travels in that vast and fertile region, and 
will long preserve his name in the West. It has 
passed through three or four editions, and still 
remains the best treatise extant on the subject 
which it professes to illustrate. 

" Francis Bcrrian, or the Mexican Patriot," Mr. 
Flint's first essay in the department of romance, 
was published in Boston in 1820. Very few 
better American novels have issued from the 
press ; hardly one more agreeable, or fraught 
with deeper interest. Tiie unstudied iiaivetC and 
freedom from pretence which mark its pages are 
hardly surpassed in the romances of Goldsmith 
or Fielding, from which, however, it widely dif- 
fers in scope and in the characters delineated. 

"Francis Berrian" was followed in 1827, by 
"Arthur Clenning," a similar work of imagination ; 
and this in 1828 by " George Mason, the Young 
Backwoodsman, a story of Mississippi," which 
was received with even greater favor than his 
first effort. In 1830, he gave to the public his 



TIMOTHY FLINT. 297 

last original romance, " The Shoshonee Valley," 
the scene of which is laid beyond the Rocky 
Mountains, " in a country which for beauty has no 
parallel in the world," 

In 1833, Mr. Flint edited some numbers of 
" The Knickerbocker Magazine," which had been 
projected and issued at the commencement of 
|i that year by Mr. Peabody, a publisher of this 
city. Mr. C. F. Hoffman had first been engaged 
as editor, but retired in a few months, on personal 
grounds. We believe Mr. Flint's editorship was 
rather nominal than actual, though he contributed 
many valuable papers to the Magazine, as well 
before and after, as during his editorial connexion 
with it. In the outset of 1834, the proprietorship 
of the Magazine was changed, and with that 
change Mr. Flint's editorship ceased. 

During the year of his connexion with the 
Knickerbocker, he wrote his volume on " Natural 
History, Geometry, Chemistry, the Application of 
Steam, and Interesting Discoveries in the Arts," 
which was published in Boston. In the early 
part of 1834, he translated from the French, "Ce- 
libacy Vanquished, or the Old Bachelor Reclaim- 
ed," a novel which gained a considerable though 
transient popularity. He also translated at dif- 
ferent periods several other works of similar 
character. 

For three years Mr. Flint edited the Western 
Monthly Magazine at Cincinnati. His own con- 



298 TIMOTHY FLINT. 

tributions to this work would make several large 
volumes, and they constitute nearly the best spe- 
cimens of American periodical literature. He 
wrote, during the successive years of his literary 
labors, a great number of tales and sketches for 
annuals and the literary journals with which he was 
not immediately connected. The works we have 
enumerated do not comprise nearly all he wrote, 
but we have not before us, nor can we recollect, 
the titles of his other productions. Ilis mind was 
vigorous, but highly imaginative ; he had a dis- 
criminating judgment, deep sensibility, warm af- 
fections, and a quick perception of the grand and 
beautiful. 

During the last years of his life, enfeebled by 
disease, he wrote but little for the public. He 
left his Louisiana home early in May, 1840, on a 
visit to the place of his nativity, hoping to derive 
a benefit from the bracins: air of New Eno^land. 
He was at Natchez when the terrible tornado de- 
vastated it, and there narrowly escaped destruc- 
tion, having with his son been buried for some 
time beneath the ruins, with the multitude of the 
whirlwind's victims. Soon after his arrival at 
Reading, his malady assumed a more malignant 
character, and he v/rote to his wife in Louisiana, 
that when she received that letter he would have 
ceased to exist. This sorrowful intelligence 
doubtless precipitated her own death, which oc- 
curred but a few days after the letter reached 



TIMOTHY FLINT. 299 

her. The prediction of his own decease was 
premature, but only too well grounded. On the 
18th of August, Timothy Flint breathed his last, 
at the age of 60 years. Though far removed 
from his family and the friends of his maturer 
years, he died deeply regretted by a limitless 
circle of friends, and by the country to whose 
literature he had made such important contribu- 
tions. 



300 



MATTHEW CAREY. 

America has adopted few sons who proved to be 
more patriotic or worthy her fostering care than 
the subject of tliis imperfect sketch. He was 
born in Ireland on the 28th of January, 17C0, of 
worthy and "Opulent parents. In his early life 
his education was confined to the branches of a 
common English education ; and upon reaching 
the age of 15, although against his father's wishes, 
he went, as an apprentice, to learn the printer's 
trade with a Mr. McDonnell of Dublin. He says 
of himself, that at this time he was very fond of 
miscellaneous readinir, and was enabled to f]:rati- 
fy his taste in this particular by the kindness of a 
keeper of a circulating library, who used to sup- 
ply him clandestinely with books. His studious 
habits were confirmed by the necessity wliich a 
lameness in his foot laid upon him, to abstain from 
the usual sports of children and youth. 

His first essay in writing was when he was 
about the age of 17, and was upon the subject of 
duelling. It was drawn out in consequence of 
an unlucky quarrel between his fellow-apprenti- 
ces, in which his employer was in some way in- 
volved, who was excessively enrnged at young 



MATTHEW CAREY. 301 

Carey's strictures. His next production was a 
pamphlet, written in 1779, upon the oppression of 
the Irish Catholics. It was a work of no little 
ability, and was dictated by an ardent love of 
civil and religious freedom, and written with 
great force and asperity against the British Go- 
vernment. The publication of it produced great 
excitement; and Parliament being then in session, 
the Duke of Leicester brought it before the House 
of Lords, and Sir Thomas Connelly before the 
House of Commons. It was denounced as trea- 
sonable and seditious, and a reward was offered, 
by a recreant body of his own countrymen 
whose cause he had undertaken to vindicate, for 
the apprehension of Mr. Carey. He immediately 
embarked for France, and was employed for a 
while in the office of Dr. Franklin, then the Ame- 
rican Minister at Paris, and who kept a small 
press for the purpose of reprinting his despatches 
and other valuable documents. While in France 
he was called upon by Lafayette, who was seek- 
ing information relative to the condition and pros- 
pects of the inhabitants of Ireland. 

After remaining in France for about a year, he 
returned to Dublin, and established a paper called 
the " Freeman's Journal." It was commenced in 
October, 1783, and is described by the editor as 
having been " violent and enthusiastic." It soon 
drew upon his head the persecution of the Govern- 
ment ; and he was soon arrested for a libel on 

26 



302 MATTHEW CAREY. 

the Premier, brought before ParUament and com- 
mitted to Newgate. He was released, however, 
in a few weeks, and for the purpose of avoiding 
sundry other vexatious suits then pending against 
him, he embarked in disguise and landed at Phila- 
delphia on the 15th of November, 1784. 

He was now nearly penniless ; but he was 
soon invited by Lafayette, who was then in this 
country, and had accidentally been informed of the 
vicissitudes of his fortune, to call upon him. He 
received him with great kindness, encouraged 
him in his half-formed project of establishing a 
newspaper in Philadelphia, and a few days after 
sent him as a free gift the handsome sum of four 
hundred dollars. This was an act worthy his 
sympathising generosity, and it is but justice to 
say that Mr. Carey subsequently repaid him in 
full. 

He now commenced the publication of the 
"Pennsylvania Herald," and made it extremely 
popular by introducing the novel practice, in this 
country, of publishing in extenso the speeches of 
the House of Assembly. Party spirit at that 
time, in Pennsylvania, ran exceedingly high, and 
he was soon involved in a quarrelwith Col. Os- 
wald, the conductor of the " Gazetteer," the organ 
of the party to which Mr. Carey was opposed. 
A bitter newspaper controversy, discreditable 
alike to both parties, ensued, terminating in a 
duel, in which Mr. Carey received a wound that 



MATTHEW CAREY. 303 

laid him up for over a year. It is but an act of 
fairness to Mr. Carey to say, that he ever after 
depreciated this act as rash and misjudged, — and 
contended vigorously for the abolition of this relic 
of the ages of barbarism. 

He soon engaged in the publication of the 
" Columbian Magazine," from which, however, 
he finally withdrew, and commenced the " Ameri- 
can Museum," a magazine intended to preserve 
the valuable fugitive essays of the day, which he 
continued until 1787. His success in these un- 
dertakings was very slight, and, as a specimen of 
his extreme poverty, he mentions the circumstance 
that a German paper-maker, living fifteen miles 
from the city, came five times for the payment of 
a note for thirty-five dollars, receiving the amount 
in as many instalments. 

In 1793, Mr. Carey, with Mr. Girard and 
others, was very efficient in his devotion to the 
sick, during the prevalence of the yellow fever 
in Philadelphia. Their efforts to ameliorate the 
condition of the afflicted were attended with great 
success. In the same year, out of his warm 
regard for the welfare of his countrymen who 
came to our shores, he was chiefly instrumental 
in the formation of a society for the special relief 
of emigrants from Ireland, an institution which 
has since done much good, and is still numbered 
among the most beneficial societies in that city. 

While Mr. Cobbett was in Philadelphia, in 



04 MATTHEW CABEY. 

1796, he became involved in an angry personal 
controversy — carried on with great bitterness 
and virulence, as well as ability, on both sides. 
It was confined, however, to a " war of words," 
and resulted in nothing more serious. In 1810, 
he engaged with great zeal and earnestness in 
the contest which then raged with regard to the 
renewal of the charter of the Bank of the United 
States. He wrote a series of essays warmly 
advocating its renewal, and gave great attention 
to the diligent consideration of the whole sub- 
ject. 

The publication of " The Olive Branch," Mr. 
Carey regards as one of the most important 
events of his hfe. It took place in 1814. The 
purpose which the author had in producing it 
was to " endeavor, by a candid publication of the 
follies and errors of both sides, to calm the em- 
bittered feeling of the political parties." The 
first edition was produced within the leisure time 
of six or seven weeks. It formed a duodecimo 
volume of two hundred and fifty-two pages, of 
which about eighty were public documents. It 
was sold out immediately, and the author says, 
** I was preparing a new edition when the thrice- 
welcome news of peace arrived, which I thought 
would render it unnecessary." But he subse- 
quently had good reason to change that opinion, 
by the demands that came in ; and one edition 
after another was prepared, each one receiving 



MATTHEW CAREY. 305 

some version or addition, until, within three years 
and a half, ten editions were struck off, there 
having been over ten thousand copies sold. 

His next large work was the " Vindication of 
Ireland," which appeared in 1819. His object in 
writing this work was to prove, among many 
other positions, that, from the invasion of Ireland 
by Cromwell, the government of that country 
had been marked by almost every species of 
" fraud, chicanery, cruelty, and oppression ;" that 
the Irish were, from time to time, goaded into 
insurrection ; that they did not enjoy the free 
exercise of their religion ; that the pretended 
conspiracy of 1641 was a miserable fabrication ; 
and that the massacres, said to have been com- 
mitted by the Irish in the insurrection of the 
same year, are unfounded in fact. 

Whatever may have been the merits of the 
work, it certainly evinced great patience and 
industry in its author, and was extremely popular 
in Ireland, where it was pronounced by the high- 
est authorities to be the ablest and the best vin- 
dication of Ireland that was ever written. 

Soon after the publication of this w^ork, he 
entered the lists in favor of " The Protective 
System of American Industry," and became for 
many years the untiring champion of that policy, 
in its broadest extent. He wrote a series of nine 
essays, which were published by a very reputa- 
ble society, established in Philadelphia to aid in 



306 MATTHEW CAREY. 

the encouragement of donnestic industry. They 
were anxiously souglit for by the friends of the 
system, and were generally copied into the news- 
pa[)ers north of the Potomac. Subsequently he 
brought forth numerous other writings, favoring 
the " Protective System," forming, in all, fifty- 
nine distinct publications, and embracing, in 
the whole, two thousand three hundred and 
twenty-two pages. Many public dcmostrations 
of gratitude followed his labors, in this as in 
other departments of exertion, and there were also 
indications of public opinion, denunciatory of his 
toils anil his views, expressed in no stinted terms. 

The latter portion of Mr. Carey's life was 
eminently active and useful, lie took an active 
part in all the worthy charities of the day. He 
seemed to have an ambition to do good, and 
whenever he took hold of a cause, he brought to 
it the devotion of his early days. He was a bold 
and unceasing advocate of the great system of 
Universal Education — utterly repudiating the idea 
that there should be one education for the rich 
and another for the poor, zealously declaring that 
he would have education as free as the genial 
air. His labors in behalf of the poor — constantly 
seeking, both by his pen and his bounty, to ame- 
liorate their condition — were untiring and disin- 
terested. 

His last publication was a volume upon the 
subject of domestic economy, entitled " The 



MATTHEW CAREY. 



307 



Philosophy of Common Sense," the object of 
which was to embody his experience and the 
maxims of his career of fourscore years. 

Mr. Carey was a man of great sagacity, of an 
ardent temperament, of untiring industry, and of 
great practical abiUty. He always recognised 
the claims of society, and devoted much of his 
life to the benefit of his fellow-men. He died in 
Philadelphia, on the 17th September, 1839. His 
funeral was numerously attended, and his de- 
cease, even at the ripe age of 80 years, called 
forth the sincere grief of his fellow-citizens. 



PRINTED BY J. P. WRIGHT, 

19 New Street, N. Y. 



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